"The lunch was divine," he said.
"You must be new here," she said.
"First time."
"Come back anytime." She paused for half a beat then added, "Alone."
She gave him an all-knowing wink and laughed.
Maybe he should ask Sally to pose. Peroxide blonde hair, false eyelashes, fire engine red lips, bursting cleavage, and hips the size of saddlebags. She was quite a package.
Me? Jealous? Of course not. But if she winked at him one more time, I'd pluck her hair out one woven strand at a time.
"Thanks for lunch." I extended my hand to him.
He took it, kissed it, and tucked it in the crook of his arm. My mind conjured up an image of him kissing every inch of me.
"Do you want to go anywhere else, or shall I take you home?" he asked.
My apartment? And then what? A quick romp and let the door hit him in the behind on his way out. This needed to end before it began.
"I don't want to trouble you. I'll catch a cab."
"Alexia, your things are in my car's trunk."
"Oh yeah, I guess you have to take me home."
"It's not a chore. I like being your chauffeur." We began to work our way down the sidewalk. "Do you have any other siblings besides the vigilant Irene?"
"If you think Irene's bad, you don't want to meet Eleanor. She's the oldest and meanest. Irene's stronger, but Eleanor's sneakier. When I was little, I would watch them fight. Always to the death or until Mom yelled. How about your family?"
The light changed, we stepped off the curb, and a cab rounded the corner and almost sheared off Ben's foot. The cabbie honked, and then wheeled around us, flashing a one-finger salute.
"Such a friendly place," he said as we ran across the street before the light changed again.
We continued down the sidewalk. I decided he planned to ignore my question.
"Before we narrowly escaped death, you asked me about my family. It's just me and my father. Irene said your father had passed on, where's your mom?" he asked.
"With Dad."
"I'm sorry. How many years between you and your sisters?"
"You would make an excellent reporter. You flip every question back to me and avoid answering about yourself."
"I hadn't noticed." He smiled as we entered the parking garage.
"You know you do it. There are only months between me and my sisters. Eleanor and Irene were adopted. I'm my parents' biological creation. They're twenty-eight and I'm twenty-seven. Now, no more questions about me and mine."
"Don't be offended. You interest me." He opened the passenger side door for me then rounded the car to get in the driver's side.
"Two more questions." He leaned over and kissed me firmly on the mouth. "And if you were a tree, which one would you be? That's a trick question because there's no wrong answer."
He had a lot of nerve kissing me without my permission, but he was damn good. The answer to the tree question was none of the above because someone would cut me down, which would hurt, or I'd get infested with bugs or struck by lightning. Then there was the part about falling in the forest and no one would hear me. Way too many factors to consider when it came to the tree selection, so I chose to focus on the lip lock.
"You're a hell of a kisser," I said.
Never feed the ego. He'll think I was interested in more and didn't mind being grabbed. Unfortunately, both were true.
"Thanks. Next time I'll give you more warning so you can help."
Fair enough. We rode in silence because I sucked my lips into my mouth to savor the taste of him. Mint from the milkshake with a splash of swagger. We arrived at my building. I offered to leave him at the curb. He insisted on carrying my meager affects upstairs.
"Put the box anywhere. Would you like some coffee?" I opened the apartment door.
"Please."
He set the box in the living room by a wall, and I switched on a light. The leather recliners were separated by a mission style lamp and table. A television and stereo system dominated the opposite wall. I slid into the kitchen to start the coffee.
He sat in the recliner and watched me. I felt like I posed for him.
Don't go there.
He had seen me nude, supposedly to help my career, not destroy my life. I rotated from the coffeemaker to confront him, folding my arms over my breasts.
"Sorry, I'm distracted by the light playing with the colors in your hair." He tried not to smile, but the rising dimple gave him away.
"I bet you say that to all the girls. Speaking of models, how many nudes have you done?"
Could I be more graphic?
"If you mean painted, as many as possible," he said.
Thank goodness the coffeemaker beeped because my skin heated up. I poured two cups and brought them out. As I handed him a cup, our fingers brushed. The vibration reached down to my core. I sat in the chair opposite him. We sipped quietly. A primal urge crept into my brain, ordering all logic and decorum switches to turn off. He had to leave before I pinned him to the floor.
"Thanks again for lunch and the ride," I said.
"Alexia, I'm attracted to you, too. I'm sorry if it makes you uncomfortable, but it won't be denied. I'll pick you up at seven tomorrow. We have a lot to discuss: your career, my painting, and our future." He put the mug on the table and stood up. "I'll see myself out."
Too late. He wasn't going anywhere. I put my arms out to him. He lifted me up, and I wrapped my legs around his waist. Our mouths met, and the world disappeared. No past or future, only the present. The house phone rang, and the machine answered.
"Alexia, its Eleanor. Irene told me about Benjamin Nance Gorgeous Hunk Cobb. Now I want your take. Don't leave out any details because I'll stalk you until I know all."
He broke the seal of our lips, but kept me suspended with his strong arms as he sauntered into the kitchen. Resting my butt on the kitchen counter, he picked up the receiver.
"Eleanor, you can call me Ben. Alexia and I are working on the details. When she calls you back, if she has any complaints, please let me know. Bye."
He hung up, and I started laughing.
"I will never live this down. Thanks for wowing my sisters."
"Did I wow you?"
He embodied wow. Unfortunately, I wasn't a sex-at-first-sight kind of gal. How long would I be able to hold out? If I didn't put out soon, would he be gone?
"I'll see what you have in store tomorrow," I said.
"Am I being dismissed?" He lifted me off the counter and set me down on my feet.
Was that a monkey wrench in his pocket or was he happy to see me?
"Not in a bad way, just in a not right now way."
"I can do slow and easy. I'd rather do fast and often, but you're in charge. I'll see you tomorrow." He strode to the door, and I followed. "Remember; be kind when you talk to your sisters. I want them to like me and not corner me in a dark alley."
"Their opinions mean nothing. I like you, and I'm glad you gave me a chance to return the kiss."
"Whenever you want another one, let me know." He opened the door.
"Only one?"
I went beyond wanton today.
"Careful, Alexia. I don't need much more persuasion. You've got a long night of dreaming of me ahead of you. If you think of anything unusual or unmentionable, please write it down. We'll compare notes at dinner."
He leaned in for a kiss. My lips barely touched his.
"Thanks for everything today," I said.
"My pleasure. I intend to sketch my dreams. Since your front is as inviting as your back, I won't be able to sleep at all. See you tomorrow."
He kissed me again quickly and left.
I watched him hike down the hall and get on the elevator. When the doors closed, I put my index finger on the corner of my mouth and went around my lips in a full circle. I popped the tip of my finger in my mouth and exhaled.
He tasted so good. What if he had suggested a quick tumble for his trouble? Would I have been o
n my back in an instant, without a moment of hesitation, morals be damned? Just like every other woman he had ever met? The thought made me pause, but not stop.
Now, what to tell my snooping sisters and what to leave out.
CHAPTER THREE
I waltzed into my bedroom, considered the tiny double bed, and imagined him there.
I removed my clothes and joined him. With closed eyes, I remembered the intensity of his stare as he painted. I presented myself to the phantom Ben and let him see all of me. He smiled in appreciation. While letting him explore, I fell asleep with the thought of those hands and tongue traveling everywhere.
I woke up at seven at night, hungry and disoriented.
I remembered my explicit dreams and vowed never to tell a soul. The sheets entrapped my shameless body. The thought of his caress caused such turmoil and longing. The imaginary Ben had worn me out. What would the real one do?
The light blinked on my answering machine. My email probably filled up, too. Between my sisters and former colleagues, everybody wanted to know what happened either yesterday or today. A full-page ad in the newspaper where I gave a full account would save time. I tugged my flannel robe on and trudged into the living room.
The front door opened, and Eleanor stepped in.
"Good, you're alive." She balanced her purse and three bags of fast food in her arms. "The first fifteen messages are from me, the rest are from Irene. She had to go to work, so I'm on the late shift. She gave me an overview of the artist formally known as reclusive. On the phone, he sounded yummy."
"I don't like to include the neighbors in our little chats, and there had better be extra fries," I said, closing the door.
After setting the bags down on the kitchen table, she reached into the cabinet and got paper plates and napkins. I filled glasses with water.
"Sweetie, close your robe when you're eating. What time did Cobb leave? Before or after you slipped into something revealing."
I cinched the robe tight and sat down.
"Eleanor, please feed me and grill me later."
"Fair enough."
We both ripped through the bags and ate quickly.
"To answer some of your questions, we had lunch, he took me home, kissed me, left, and I had dream sex with him until fifteen minutes ago. What did you do today?" I asked.
"Same old, same old. Wrestled alligators, flew to Jupiter, and solved world hunger."
"Always the overachiever. Do you mind if I play my phone messages?"
"Go ahead." She picked up the garbage and cleared the table.
Beep. "It's Eleanor; call me." Beep. Ten more times, alternating between Irene and Eleanor. Beep. "I'm on my way over," Eleanor said.
A final beep.
"Miss Hale, this is Larry Mitchell from Single Chicago. I know your interview is next week, but I have an hour or so tomorrow. If you're available in the morning between ten and noon, please call."
"Sharks smell blood. You don't think the picture of me canoodling with Benjamin Nance Cobb has anything to do with it?" I asked.
"You snagged THE single Chicagoan. Of course, it has everything to do with it. What are you going to wear? Be sophisticated, but hip." She hustled me to my closet.
"I think, Ben sorta kinda offered me a job." I remade my bed.
"In your dream or does he consider dating him to be a paid position?" Eleanor rummaged through and found a turquoise wrap dress she made as a sample.
"No, he's looking for an assistant." I stood as she handed me the hangar.
She blinked.
"Who will sleep with him?" I held the dress up to my body as Eleanor fussed over it.
"I guess." I shrugged because I didn't want to think about how bad it sounded.
"Sweetie, there are unpleasant words associated with such arrangements. Talk to the magazine guy, and see what you think. Now, where's your iron?"
"I don't own one, and you're right about the interview. If it doesn't work out, I could work for you or Irene," I said, half kidding.
"I'm fully staffed at the moment. Irene is welcome to you any time. And how can you walk around in wrinkled clothes?"
"Wash and wear suits me, and no one complains."
She tsked and headed back to the closet.
"I have a date with Ben tomorrow night. Guess where he's taking me?" I asked as I stood in closet doorway.
"Reykjavik, Bora Bora, or Casablanca?" She reappeared with another sample dress, this one rose colored and sleeveless. I forgot I had it. I slipped it on and got a nod of approval.
"No, the Reign Bar. Don't tell Irene. I want to surprise her."
"Nothing surprises Irene. She's psychic or a druid. I doubt she reflects in a mirror. Besides, she'll see the name on the reservations list. Can I be there too? I haven't met him yet."
"A group date? He'll think I asked for chaperones."
"With him, you need armed guards. Keep in mind, he's seen you nude. Anything after is tame in comparison. Call Larry, Moe, or Curly for the interview and get some real sleep. Dark circles aren't attractive unless you're a raccoon. No more mythical sex with the artist. Be ready for the interview. Be sharp, you want this job. Wear the wrap and smooth it down. The rose one is for dinner. Call me after it to recap and regroup for your date. Love ya." She hugged me and left.
I listened to Larry's message again. I wrote down the number, called, and left a message to agree to an interview at ten o'clock.
I yawned. Fried food had a narcotic effect on me.
Back to bed, I slid nude under the covers. To sleep, perchance to dream about a mysterious knight, an unemployed damsel, and two beautiful sisters dying of envy.
Across from a bank of windows, I contemplated the Ferris wheel spinning at Navy Pier, and wished I was on it. Single Chicago had offices on the thirtieth floor in a building overlooking the Chicago River. I knotted my purse strap in my hands.
No reason to be nervous. After all, Larry called me. He wanted to hire me. All I had to do was name my price. But right now, jobless due to budget cuts and an infamous picture of a shirtless Benjamin Nance Cobb damaged my career opportunities. I remembered being pressed up against him. A live wire igniting passion deep inside me that I didn't know existed.
Take my job, my Malibu Barbie, and my spleen for another kiss.
"Miss Hale," a man said.
"Yes, I'm here."
I shook off the remnants of my illicit thoughts of Ben. Were there any other kind?
"I'm Larry Mitchell. I'm glad you could come on such short notice." He shook my hand.
"No problem. I'm glad you called."
"Let's head for the conference room."
He led me past cubicles and bulletin boards full of pictures and sketches. I caught a few stares and a whisper. As we continued down the hall, the open spaces fell silent.
"Please have a seat. Would you like some coffee or anything?" He opened the door to a conference room.
"Coffee would be great, thanks."
"I'll be right back."
I tended to spill when nervous, but I needed to keep my hands busy. I settled into a chair and drummed my fingers on the table. A folder on the table had the corner of a newspaper sticking out of it. I put my finger on it and pulled it all the way out. The picture of me and Ben.
I picked up the folder and opened it. An internal memo to a Ms. Hutchins had been attached to my resume.
This is the woman at BNC's loft. She has an interview scheduled for next week and would have been a good fit in the lifestyle department. Food and wine recommendations are her specialty. But you promised that job to Cecelia. Of course, if Alexia gets us an interview with Cobb that would mean a blockbuster and puts us in the black for months. Cobb on the cover or a wedding shot, the sky's the limit. Should I call her and get her in tomorrow? Written across the bottom in bold red letters Absolutely, Rita Hutchins.
I heard people talking in the hall and shoved everything back in the folder. I tucked it under some more papers. Larry reappeared with a St
yrofoam cup in his hand and closed the door. He set it down and sat opposite me.
"I reviewed your resume. You've done impressive work. I read some more articles you wrote on party ideas and even a few restaurant reviews. You are well informed on the diversity of the city. I would love to have you join the staff," he said.
"Don't you want to ask me some questions? Where do I see myself in five years? How can I contribute to the magazine? Who started the Great Chicago Fire?" I asked.
"Your resume speaks for itself. You underestimate your talent."
A week ago, I would have been relieved not to talk. Now, I grew suspicious. I leaned over and tapped the folder in front of him. He paled and slumped his shoulders.
"You overestimate my influence, Mr. Mitchell. Mr. Cobb doesn't grant interviews of any kind. I would never abuse his friendship to further your circulation."
"Alexia, I'm sorry, but Cobb's in huge demand worldwide," he explained.
"I know, but you did want to interview me before the picture in the newspaper. You reviewed my credentials and must have seen something worthy."
"That position has been filled. A former employee moved back into the area and has a huge following on the web."
"So all I have going for me here is a stolen picture of me with Benjamin Nance Cobb." He nodded.
"I believe this concludes our conversation." I unclipped my resume from the memo. "Forget we ever met, Shemp. I know my way out."
I opened the door. People milled around and immediately tried to look busy. I straightened my shoulders and strutted through the busy workroom. At the exit, I acknowledged the crowd.
"I said, 'Hell no!' "
Too hot to walk, I considered my options. Go home and hide under the covers until Friday. If I took a cab to Eleanor's store and told her, she'd tell Irene who would call and threaten Larry who would be fired for not lying well enough to me. She'd track me down too, may as well get the interrogation over and done.
I found Eleanor in her workroom, hunched over a table, sizing a piece of material. I explained my prospective job's requirements: bring them Ben on a platter. "The dirty son of a bitch knows you're qualified and had planned to interview you next week before your date with infamy. He's trying to twist you into promising to deliver a Cobb interview," Eleanor said as she cut out a pattern.
Spicing Up Trouble: a romantic comedy Page 5