Come Undone (The Cityscape 1)

“You look positively dashing,” Lucy replied in a mock British accent, flattening the tie into the vest. He straightened his shoulders in the mirror and tugged on the sleeves. My mouth went dry as I watched, and our back-and-forth from lunch filtered through my head. Standing tall in the urbane suit, he looked every bit the refined gentleman. And gentleman becomes him, I thought.

When Lucy was occupied pinning again, I glanced at the black American Express, which sat beside me on Lucy’s desk next to his other personal effects, and then peered slyly at the price tag of one of the suits. Almost three thousand dollars. Holy . . . Exactly how much do architects make? The desk vibrated under my thighs. David’s phone lit up, and the name ‘Brittany’ bannered across the screen. He didn’t make any effort to move or see who was calling, so I didn’t mention it. Brittany, I thought snidely. Doesn’t exactly sound like work.

“I brought snacks.” I heard the cheery voice of Lucy’s receptionist before she entered. “Goldfish, apples, croissants . . . ,” she nodded, naming each thing on the tray. With a goofy smile plastered on her face, she set it on the coffee table and turned to David. When he remained silent, she cleared her throat nervously. “Um,” she started. “Is this all right? Did you want, maybe, something else?” she asked his reflection.

“I can’t move,” he said, nodding his head toward Lucy.

“Oh, right,” she nodded enthusiastically, picking the tray up again.

“No, no – I’ll get something later,” he said quickly as she started toward him. I stifled a giggle and wondered if women were always this uneasy around him.

“Right,” she said, setting it down. “Well, if you need anything - ”

“I’ll take an apple,” I interjected.

“Sure Liv, go for it.” She motioned toward the tray as she left. David made no attempt to hide his grin, but an awkward silence fell over the room in her wake.

“So Liv, how’s the article?” Lucy asked. “She’s up for a promotion if it goes well, David. Do you think you’ll get it? Are you nervous?” I was, in fact, very nervous, but I did my best to act casual.

“I’m optimistic,” I said.

“It’s my favorite time of year,” Lucy gushed, looking up at David. “Liv gets to work with all these hot guys, and I get to live vicariously through her. Don’t tell Andrew,” she added, reddening with a giggle.

“And women,” I inserted. David looked disapproving as he stared ahead.

“Oh, who cares about them? Who else are you interviewing?”

“Actually, I just got back from meeting with this freelance photographer at his apartment.”

“Hold still, David, or I might accidentally stab you!”

“Sorry,” he muttered.

“His name is Brian Ayers, really interesting guy, beguiling actually. Don’t tell, but he fed me wine and cheese.”

“Liv, while you’re working?” Lucy scolded. I widened my eyes at her playfully and nodded.

“Brian Ayers?” David repeated, looking at me finally.

“Yes, do you know him?”

“For a long time. We run in the same circle.” I thought I detected a hint of a growl, but I couldn’t be sure.

“Well what do you think, David? Would he make a good Bachelor?” Lucy asked.

His nostrils flared, but Lucy couldn’t see since she was working intently on the hem of his blazer. “He’s a good guy,” he said with reluctance. “I suppose some women might find him attractive.”

“Liv?”

I pondered as I compared our first meeting on the Trail with the interview we’d just had. “Yes, he is. He looks like a distinguished beach bum if that makes sense. Like, I could see him hitting the waves before a board meeting. But he doesn’t have board meetings, because he’s a photographer. I don’t really know how to pin him down, which is why he’ll be great for the article. He’ll appeal to different demographics.”

“Distinguished beach bum,” David snorted. “Maybe that should be his headline.”

“David, let me ask you a couple questions while I work,” Lucy said. “Liv, will you grab the clipboard from my desk and take notes?”

“Oh, now you’re putting me to work?” I joked as I located it.

“We’re almost done.” She looked at me apologetically. If she only knew, I thought. I could sit and watch this all day.

“Aside from work and the occasional event - ”

“Frequent. I have events weekly.”

“Right, frequent events, what other wardrobe needs do you have?”

“How do you mean?”

“Well, you mentioned that you’re a swimmer. What are your other hobbies?” she asked.

“I don’t have much free time,” he stated. “Right now Arnaud and I are flipping a house in Evanston, but for that I just wear a t-shirt and jeans.”

My mouth twitched and I looked away, embarrassed. Jesus, was he trying to give me a heart attack? Between gentleman, swimmer and construction worker he was hitting all the right tr

iggers. “Well, do you need trunks? For swimming?” I asked, trying to be helpful.

He glanced at me in the reflection and a smirk twisted his mouth. “No, I’m all set.”

Not understanding what was funny, I smirked right back. He’s trying to make me uncomfortable, I figured. But two can play at that game. “How about undergarments? Boxers? Briefs?”

He shook his head. “That won’t be necessary. How about you?”

“I’m good,” I said, fighting the blush that was creeping upward. “Bill has great taste in that department,” I added. Lucy raised her eyebrows at me, but I pretended to make notes on the clipboard.

“Glad to hear it,” he said. “You know what I could use though? Shoes. Size fourteen. And a half,” he said with a wink. “They’re hard to find, so don’t forget to write that down.”

It took me a second to realize I had dropped my pen. Lucy froze, and I was sure I saw her sneak a peek upward from where she was crouched. I wonder if that’s true? He does have big hands. And if . . . ? I shook my head and looked up. He was watching me in the reflection again.

“Shoot,” Lucy said, causing me to break the stare. “I pricked myself. I’m going to get a Band-Aid. I’m done if you want to get dressed, David.”

“So Brian Ayers, huh?” he asked when we were alone. “Do you really think it’s wise to go around drinking wine in strangers’ apartments?”

“I thought you knew him.”

“He’s still a stranger to you.”

“Is he a bad guy?”

“No, but that’s not the point,” he said, running his hand over his face. “And in that dress.” He exhaled loudly.

“It’s just business.” I smoothed my hand over my dress self-consciously.