Come Alive (The Cityscape 2)

He sighed and nodded his head toward the green light. “This might be one of our last warm days,” he commented once we were walking again.

I wanted to laugh. The things left unsaid were almost palpable between us. But it was better that way; so instead, we would talk about the weather. “That’s fine by me,” I said. “I love Chicago in autumn.”

“Me too,” he said with a smile. “What’s your favorite thing about it?”

“Probably the way there’s something electric in the air just as it starts to cool down. Also, that I get to wear boots again.”

He laughed and rolled his eyes toward the sky. “Typical.”

“What about you?” I asked.

“I take my sister’s kid to pick apples a couple hours away. That’s my favorite thing. That and the weekend mornings when you wake up and your bed is so warm and you have nowhere to be . . . .”

My face fell as the fantasy of waking up in his arms, pressed against his hot, hard body flashed through my mind. So much for a safe topic.

When I glanced up, he wore a roguish smile. “And who doesn’t love the foliage?” he asked.

“Of course,” I agreed immediately. “The foliage is just beautiful in the fall.”

His shoulders shook with a silent laugh, and I looked away quickly.

“When my sister and I were kids,” he continued, “one of our chores was to rake leaves. She hated it, but I didn’t mind. It gave me a sense of order. It agitated me when they were strewn all over the lawn.”

I pictured David as a young man, his posture straight and his movements concentrated as he worked.

“I guess you didn’t really have that problem in Dallas.”

I shook my head. “Not at my house, no.”

“Did you like growing up there?”

“It was all right.” I shrugged and took a large bite before sucking chocolate cookie off my fingers.

“How’s that ice cream, Olivia?”

I tried not to squirm at the way he said my name. “Delicious.”

“I like watching you eat it.”

I arched an eyebrow at him.

“I mean because you look like you’re enjoying it.”

I nodded and licked my lips.

“I would buy you an ice cream every day just to watch you eat it.”

I captured a deep breath. His low and manly voice made enjoying my ice cream sandwich sound sinful. And then I imagined dripping vanilla ice cream onto his abs and cleaning it off with a long, drawn out lick.

“Besides, you could use the nourishment.”

I jolted back to reality. “What do you mean by that?”

“You’re too skinny.”

“Oh, David,” I said, rolling my eyes. “Would you drop it?”

His voice deepened into a chastisement. “I meant what I said about your health. I don’t know why you’re not eating, but it stops now.”

“Of course I eat,” I replied cheerily. “If I didn’t, I’d be dead.”

His eyebrows met in the middle as he studied me, seemingly not amused. “What does he say about this? And your friends?”

“They know that I’m an adult with the ability to gauge my level of hunger.” I crossed one arm over my stomach, and our steps slowed to a stop as we approached my office.

He turned so we were facing. “I overheard Gretchen say at breakfast yesterday that you’re depressed.”

I blinked up and pressed my lips together. I imagined punching Gretchen in the arm. “I suppose maybe they think so.”

“Why?”

“Why do they think that or why am I depressed?”

“Are you depressed?”

I wrapped my arm tighter and refrained from pinching myself. “They think I am because of . . . Davena. She’s the woman who – ”

“I know who she is. You didn’t seem very pleased with Lucy’s toast.”

“It was silly of me. Melodramatic.” I balled up the wrapper and ran the back of my hand over my mouth.

He leaned closer. “It’s been hard, hasn’t it?”

I took a step back and wondered why my heart was suddenly pounding.

“These past few months,” he continued, “I’ve been worried about you.”

“I have to get back to work.”

“Olivia – ”

“Thanks for the ice cream.” I spun around before he could say anything else and booked it up to the fourteenth floor.

~

With a soft sigh, I flipped some hair over my shoulder. The computer screen blazed bright, but the entire floor was dark. I could almost feel myself burning out from another long day.

With a deadline in the morning, I couldn’t leave until I’d hammered out the last few paragraphs in front of me. But it had been impossible to concentrate all day. Butterflies were perched in my chest, threatening to explode into a million fluttering wings if I let my mind wander. It was the reason I was the only person left in the office: I couldn’t stop daydreaming.

How was it that Bill left the apartment in a suit every day, yet I barely noticed? David, in all his charcoal pinstripe glory, was far more distinguished than the rest of us plebeians who walked the planet. He was perfection in a suit. And somehow, I had his attention. His heavy brows joined when he watched words fall from my mouth, as though he might have to reach out and catch one.

Our short walk was a like a bookmark in the dark chapter I’d been living; a moment to come up for air when I’d been stuck just beneath the surface. It was like a dream that had never happened, except that it had.

I bit the inside of my cheek and leaned over to the bottom drawer of my desk. I rifled through it until I saw the issue of Chicago M. With a short breath, I opened it and flipped through the pages until I found what I was looking for.

Chicago Metropolitan Magazine

Most Eligible Bachelor #3:

David Dylan

Senior Architect, Pierson/Greer

Age: 34

Lives in: River North

David Dylan is the epitome of cool. From his made-for-Hollywood name to his devilish good looks, he holds more clout than a varsity quarterback dating the homecoming queen. To complete the package, he comes from a perfect family of four, owns a sailboat and has a vacation home in Spain. This highly sought-after architect, who was recently profiled for Architectural Digest, spends what little free time he has in the water – no small feat for an Illinois native. From surfing to swimming to sailing, it’s no wonder his friends nicknamed him Fish years ago.

Looking for: Someone to settle down with. His well-known father’s greatest accomplishment, he says, is marrying the woman he fell in love with almost forty years ago. Oh, and big, green eyes. “Eyes truly are the windows to a woman’s soul. Business has taught me to be tough, but when ‘the one’ bats her eyelashes at me just the right way, I will be putty in her hands.”

Topic of interest: The Revelin – he is the lead designer on the resort that is set to open at the end of this year.

Oh, he is good. I wondered how Chicago-ettes would recover after reading that. After some consideration, I decided that my pity was for the male population. They’d have a hard time stacking up to someone like David Dylan. David Dylan and his affinity for big, green eyes. At the time of publication, he hadn’t yet met Dani. I knew it was narcissistic, but I couldn’t help clinging to the thought that maybe he had added that part for me.