His Sweetest Sin

As it had this morning, my mind struggles to understand what is going on with my body. Okay, so he was gorgeous, beautiful, all the adjectives I’ve ever heard of denoting attractive apply to the man. Still, I’ve been around beautiful men before, and my body has never melted into a puddle of goo at the sight of them. Then again, no man has ever looked at me the way he did. He could teach a master class on eye fucking. I never even understood what the term meant until he unleashed his skills on me. Damn it, I dig for my cell phone to search him.

The first few pages are filled with accolades on what a great player he is. He’s a three-time All-Star. I have no idea what an All-Star is, but the indication is it’s a big deal. He has three World Series rings from the win that brought him attention, another from playing in Massachusetts, and from the win two years ago, his first year here in Chicago. Huh—he is retiring after this year.

I wonder if he’ll stay in Chicago or go home to Austin. Tension eases in me when I read an article where he says he doesn’t really consider Austin home. Interesting, considering I read through his file, stolen from Ethan’s office. Christopher Baldwin’s extensive property holding in Austin stunned me. It’s even more interesting none of it is mentioned in the press. He owns four apartment complexes built from the ground up. With his property investments, Baldwin is worth a little over a hundred and twenty million, which doesn’t even factor in his holdings in the market. The real Christopher Baldwin is more than the playboy dripping with Southern charm he plays in public.

The pictures of him with a multitude of strippers come up on the fourth page of the search and keep going until I give up after the seventh page. There are a few pictures of him with Caroline Goodwin, one of the sexiest, most talented actresses of the last decade. They dated, even lived together for almost two years when he was in LA playing for a team in California. Although his past before her included a few strippers, there were also models, and even a PR executive.

After her though, he only dated strippers, and dating was a stretch, it was rare for him to be seen with one more than twice. God, they are so sexy. If he hadn’t come right out and said he wants me, I would never have thought it possible. The only thing I have in common with the scantily clad women are the curves he talked about. Chris does seem to be open to a variety of women—his hookups are a veritable list of the United Nations, with each one having the kind of curves found in centerfolds. One of the pictures has a caption about how he prefers his women to be naturally curvy, women who are surgically enhanced don’t appeal to him.

I glance at the treadmill in the corner of my living room, dusty from lack of use. I’m all natural for sure. There’s a part of me still disbelieving of his attraction to me—fat-ass me. For years, I’ve had my mother telling me I was never skinny enough to get a man. My mother’s a size four, and I never got below a size six no matter how hard I tried.

Most of my adult life was a cycle of eat, work out until I dropped, eat rabbit food only, work out, give in to the good stuff until my stomach hurt then hit the gym again until I dropped, lather rinse repeat. It was how I maintained my size eight until the weeks before a planned trip to my parents, when a ramp up would get me down to a size six, then within a month I was back to an eight.

While I blamed my current weight on the accident, it had begun to creep up long before it. I don’t cook so my food has always been takeout, fast, or restaurants only. With hitting the gym every day I was able to work off the calories, but when I started living in the office after Holly and Ethan got married, the visits to the gym became less and less until they were completely random. In the months before the accident I had gone up to a size twelve. After the accident, I’m firmly a size sixteen.

The accident was pure hell. I was able to keep my left leg due to skill and metal. For six months it was held together with rods and pins before it was deemed healed enough for them to be removed. Even though it’s ugly now, I’m grateful I still have it. The only problem is anything more than a leisurely walk of a few blocks is pure hell.

Working out on it, even with the low impact moves my physical therapist put me through, has me in tears. When I told him it was still too painful, he suggested swimming or working out in a pool. As much as I love swimming, with my new weight and the scars I flinch even thinking about going out in public in a swimsuit.

So often I look in the mirror and startle at the person looking back at me. She isn’t who I used to be; I don’t know her, and I don’t like her for the way people judge her as lazy, stupid, lacking in self-control. I hate the way men’s eyes slide away from me in public, as though terrified I’ll think they want me. The way women roll their eyes at me in the department stores where I once bought the Prada and Gucci and Chanel I loved so much, but now have to buy Eileen Fisher and stay in the fatty section.

As much as I hate it, instead of it pushing me to change, I’ve retreated into work and buying online. My male clients don’t care about my size, they care about me winning, about me getting the best deal possible and the women admire my skill without ever looking down at me.

It stuns me that Chris Baldwin, a gorgeous male specimen who could have any woman he wanted, wants me. His eyes didn’t slide away, they caught mine, held and eye fucked me until my whole body pulsed with heat. He said I made his cock ache I blush even thinking of the word he used. He was sincere, his desire clear on his beautiful face. It’s thrilling to be wanted by someone like him.

Hold on, was I actually thinking about getting involved with him? No, bad idea, horrible idea. I cringe at the memory of how my last relationship ended. Richard Lake the third was a boring, pompous jerk, and not very attractive with his bright red hair and endless freckles. Still, he looked down at me in disdain as I lay there naked and told me that he couldn’t do it. I made his cock limp at the idea of fucking me. Squeezing my eyes against the memory, no. I can’t, no matter how appealing Chris Baldwin is, I’m not up to dealing with the fallout of disappointing him. Even as I wonder if all the quotes from the women are true, wonder if it’s possible to feel that kind of satisfaction.

I

’m no virgin, I’ve been with three men. Each experience was filled with discomfort and embarrassment. I found the whole ordeal more gross than anything. I’m more than content to not try again. As appealing as the invitation to sin with Chris is, there is no doubt in my mind I would fail miserably at it, even under his no doubt expert tutelage. He’s used to strippers who have all the right moves. Me, I have no moves at all. As empty as my life is right now, I’ve grown content with it. At least there are no tears, or fear, or angst, the way I lived with every other relationship I tried.

Sliding out of the big comfy chair, I cross to the wall of books and my shelf of Austen. My hand finds it from muscle memory, Pride and Prejudice. How fitting, Mr. Darcy with all his arrogance, so sure Elizabeth would be willing to take him on his terms. I’m not prideful, I’m protective of the last little soft part inside me that I’m pretty sure might never recover after a round with Mr. Baldwin. I stretch out on the chaise lounge and pull down my faux fur throw over my legs as I open the book. As it happens, so often, within minutes I’m lost in the story, far safer than the real world.

***

Amelia

When I get into the office the next day, I’m surprised by an email already waiting for me from Wilson Tyson. Tyson represents Pentonie Properties, the company that sold Chris the property. Word travels fast in this city, they were getting out in front of a suit to avoid more bad press. It’s standard for attorneys to reach out to the legal representation of the company they will be suing to see if they are interested in settling before filing. Ethan and Karen believe it’s a sign of weakness and our firm doesn’t, we make them come to us. They want a meeting, today, at their office. I laugh; this is going to be fun.

After a look through the past settlements of Pentonie, then adding up the cost of getting the remaining tenants out of the property, plus the fees from my working on this, as well as what defending the suit will cost Chris, the math is high. Pentonie owes Chris, a million, easy. I call Chris, and he answers on the second ring. “Yeah.”

“It’s Amelia. I received an email this morning about the suit against Pentonie Properties. Pentonie is looking to settle before we file it. The moment it gets filed anyone can find it online, it hurts them. They want a meeting today.”

“Why does it feel too easy?”

“Because you’re smart. Pentonie screwed up, they probably thought you had more money than sense, that you were just some guy trying to get into the property game without knowing what you were doing. Then you helped push it by buying the property with your lawyer in Texas and without due diligence. Now it’s out you’re our client. Our reputation, especially Ethan’s, is you don’t fuck with our clients. Ethan enjoys ensuring people dumb enough to try hurt so badly it never happens again. I’m going to decline their offer of a meeting today. I’ll set it for Friday, here. I want to let them sweat for a few days. How does eight in the morning sound to you?”

“Damn, you sound lethal, Ms. Bishop. Something tells me people make the mistake of underestimating you, and you like schooling them that you take after Ethan by more than just his last name. I trust you. However you want to play this, it’s your game.”

I roll my eyes, even as I blush with pride at the way he sounds impressed by me. “Good, I’ll see you Friday at eight then.”

“No, sugar. I’ll see you today at one for lunch at Goldfinches. I do believe you were remiss yesterday in not doing a better job of introducing yourself to your client. I’m used to being wined and dined, a little something for getting charged fifteen hundred dollars an hour. I’m giving you another chance, the table is already booked.”

Remiss? I’m a snob for being surprised by the word. Swallowing the urge to say yes. “Mr. Baldwin, I’m now in the role as your attorney in regard to dealing with Pentonie Properties. As such, as I stated before, I cannot become involved with you on a personal level.”

“Ethan bought me lunch when I was looking at whether or not I was going to hire him. Actually, it was lunch and drinks at a nice private cigar bar. I bet if he were the one I talked to yesterday and I asked him out for lunch to get to know him better, he wouldn’t hesitate.

“Are you not going to give me the same courtesy of getting to know the person who is going to handle a very expensive, very important suit with my name on it? Hmm...I wonder what Ethan would say? I found his card last night, I didn’t realize it had his cell phone number on it. Now that is a lawyer who cares about his clients, making sure they can always reach out to him whenever they need him.”