Come Undone (16 page)

CHAPTER 1
3

I RAKED MY EYES
over the e-mail again,
trying to decide how to respond.

From:
David
Dylan

Sent:
Mon,
May 7, 2012 08:23 AM CST

To:
Olivia
Germaine

Subject:
RE: Chicago
M - Meet & Greet Invitation

Olivia,

Thanks for
the invitation. Of course I will be there. I’m headed over to my latest project
in a few hours. Come along & we can discuss my bachelor status.

DAVID
DYLAN

SENIOR
ARCHITECT,

PIERSON/GREER

I
checked my watch for no reason at all. I had things to do, but the interviews
took precedence.

From:
Olivia
Germaine

Sent:
Mon,
May 7, 2012 08:31 AM CST

To:
David
Dylan

Subject:
RE:
Chicago M - Meet & Greet Invitation

I’m all
yours, just name the time/place.

Olivia
Germaine

Associate
Editor,

Chicago Metropolitan Magazine

ChicagoMMag.com

He
was somehow just as commanding over e-mail. Or was it me? I was letting him get
to me. I reminded myself to have a talk with him about boundaries. I was losing
control of the situation and it frightened me. Between his reckless text and
working with Lucy, it was getting out of hand.
What is though?
I asked myself.
Is
it all in my head?
Almost immediately, his response came through.

From:
David
Dylan

Sent:
Mon,
May 7, 2012 08:33 AM CST

To:
Olivia
Germaine

Subject:
RE:
Chicago M - Meet & Greet Invitation

That is
music to my ears. I’ll be by at 11:30. Lunch is on me.

DAVID
DYLAN

SENIOR
ARCHITECT,

PIERSON/GREER

~

I started
when Jenny alerted me to David’s arrival, surprised to see the time. Eleven
thirty on the dot. I’d been engrossed in research all morning and had meant to
meet him downstairs. In a rush, I smoothed a self-conscious hand over my hair.
I was thankful for my conservative outfit of a short sleeve white button down
and dark navy high-waisted pencil skirt. A swipe of pink lip gloss and I was
all set. Clutching my briefcase to my chest, I entered the lobby, where Serena
and Beman talked giddily with David.

“Olivia,
you didn’t mention an appointment with Mr. Dylan today,” Beman said airily. He
gave me a nod when David wasn’t looking. “We’re so thrilled that you’ve agreed
to be a part of the piece this year, David.”

He
responded with an uncharacteristically sheepish look as he rubbed the back of
his neck. “I hope it doesn’t turn out too bad.”

“Oh
no,” Beman started. “It will be quite the opposite. I expect you’ll receive an
emphatic response,” he said, batting his eyelashes shamelessly. “You know, I’ve
followed your work since that piece in the
Tribune
years ago. I’d love to come along and see the space,” he ventured.

“Mrs.
Germaine and I will use this time for our interview. With my hectic schedule,
this is the only time I could spare.” I smiled secretly.

“I
completely understand. Please consider Liv at your disposal,” he said with an
over the top laugh, as though it were a hilarious joke.

“Ready?”
he asked, looking at me with his hands on his hips.

“After
you, Mr. Dylan,” I said, holding my arm out for him.

“No,”
he chuckled, swinging the door open with ease and gesturing for me to pass
through. “After you.”

Once
we were in the hallway, away from prying eyes, I felt myself relax a little in
his presence. How he managed to both wrack and calm my nerves baffled me.

“That
guy tells anyone you’re at their disposal again, and I’ll throw him through the
wall.”

I
searched his face for a hint of teasing but found none. I was alarmed by the excitement
it stirred in me.

His
shoulders loosened. “How are you?” he asked pleasantly.

My
mind scrambled to catch up with his shift in mood. I caught him inspecting the
spot where the bruises had been. “Fine,” I replied nonchalantly and crossed my
arms to cover my elbow.

He
tapped his foot and peered down at me as we waited for the elevator.

“Er,
how are you?” I asked.

“Better,” he said with a beatific smile, taking
a hammer to my resolve.

~

He led me
over to a classic black Porsche 911 so shiny and spotless, that it must have
taken a deal with the devil to keep it that way, especially in this city. He
opened the passenger door, and I blinked my eyes in disbelief.

“This
is your car?”

“Yes.
Get in,” he urged, and I crouched down to slide onto the leather seat.

I
eyed the interior quickly as he rounded the car and spotted, as I had
suspected, the signature Turbo logo.

“I
love this car,” I said once he was behind the wheel.

“Are
you a car girl?”

“Not
really, but my dad always had a different sports car when I was growing up. I
don’t really care, so long as it goes fast.”

“That
doesn’t surprise me. Hungry?” he asked.

“Starved,”
I replied honestly. He looked at me curiously. “Oh, I eat. You’re probably not
used to that,” I murmured.

He
laughed. “You must work hard to keep such a great figure,” he commented, pulling
out of the spot and into traffic.

“Um,
sure,” I said under my breath, reddening. Aside from occasional run, I never
worked out. “Did you have a nice time on Saturday night?”

“Moderate,”
he replied. “I went to support Arnaud, but you were quite the distraction. I’d
have rather been at your table.”

“No
doubt, considering we were a table of five women.”

“I
meant that I’d have preferred your company.”

I
scoffed. “
My
company? I’d say you had
your hands full with - what was it? Mar-eee-ah? She must have been the most
beautiful woman in the room,” I said casually, feigning interest in something
outside.

He
made a noise, and my statement hung in the air. “Do I sense a hint of jealousy,
Olivia?” He continued when I didn’t respond. “I am dating.”

“You
can call me Liv, you know. Everyone else does.”

“Don’t
change the subject.”

I
gaped and the hairs on the back of my neck prickled. That always worked on
Bill; he was easily sidetracked. “All right,” I relented. “So you’re dating.”

“Is
it something you wish to discuss?” he asked.

My
chest tightened as I took in his profile, letting my gaze explore his face as
he concentrated ahead. The only word I could think to describe his nose was
strong. It had a slight bump that ended in an acute tip. Though smoothly
shaven, I could see a shadow forming. His long lashes blinked and bushy
eyebrows furrowed as he focused on the road, deepening the crow’s feet around
his eyes. Defined muscles strained against a crisp shirt as he shifted gears
and my hand twitched, desiring to reach over and feel them.

It
was something I desperately wished to discuss. How could I tell him all the
things that had crossed my mind lately, all the emotions that tore at my
insides? I couldn’t. Not how I’d begun to question my marriage, how I sometimes
wondered if it would be enough. He looked over at me questioningly.

“No,”
I said quietly.

We
rode in silence the rest of the way.

~

“Good
afternoon, Mr. Dylan.” The hostess’s sleek ponytail, low-cut top and smiling
red lips didn’t seem to catch his attention, but I had to admire her effort.

“This
place is close to the site so we’re here a lot,” he explained.

“What
exactly is the project?”

“It’s
a resort hotel on the Chicago River.”

“Dylan,”
The French accent boomed from across the restaurant just as we’d sat down. I
recognized the approaching man as the one David had introduced to the table
Saturday night.

“Arnaud
Mallory, this is Olivia Germaine, writer for
Chicago M
.”

“Yes,”
he said, and I shifted uncomfortably under the same stare he’d given me at the
restaurant. “I remember.”

“Nice
to meet you,” I said a little too loudly, tucking my hair behind my ear.

“
Enchanté
, mademoiselle,” he replied, holding out his palm and
bowing his head.

“Madame,
actually,” I corrected, reluctantly allowing him to kiss the back of my hand.

He
lifted his bent head and raised his eyebrows, looking between the two of us.
“I’m sorry. Madame, then.”

“Are
you going back to the office?” David asked.

“Yes.”

“I
need you to go and look at those light fixtures we discussed. Today. We can make
a final decision when I get back later,” he said, turning his attention back to
me and effectively dismissing Arnaud. Inwardly I breathed a sigh of relief.

“Germaine,”
David mused once we were alone. “That’s not your husband’s name, is it?”

“How
did you know?”

“I
did my research,” he said with a mischievous gleam in his eye.

“No,
it’s not. And before you ask, I haven’t gotten around to it and you can address
me however you prefer.” I smoothed a hand over my hair. “Makes no difference to
me, I’ll be changing it soon.”

“I
see,” he said, smiling into his menu.

“What’s
good here, anyway?” I asked.

“Do
you eat meat?”

“Obviously.”

“I
know just the thing,” he said, taking my menu and setting it on the edge of the
table. I started to object, but something about the excited look in his eyes
stopped me.

After
he’d ordered, I took a long sip of water that coated my insides. I hoped it
would squelch the heat that he had ignited after his outburst earlier.

“So
David,” I started. “Tell me about yourself. What do you do in your spare time?”
I asked.

“I
try to keep busy with work,” he said simply.

“I
can see that. But you must blow off steam somehow?” I instantly blushed at the
accidental insinuation.

“I
sail and I enjoy a swim now and then,” he said, letting me off the hook.

“Oh?”
I said distractedly as his shirtless image popped into my head. I remembered
how in college, the swimmers had always had the best bodies.
Figures
, I thought.

He
leaned in on his elbows. “How about you,” he paused and looked at me mockingly,
“
Liv
?” His tone was sensual and his
eyes concentrated. I blanched and reached for my ear, but his hand bolted out
and caught my wrist. I froze. He released it slowly and eased back into his
chair, looking to me expectantly.

“Well,
there’s work,” I said.
Duh.
“I spend
most of my free time with . . .” My voice trailed off when Bill’s face came to
mind. “Gretchen and Lucy. Normal girl stuff.” I shrugged. “I read, and I volunteer
at the local shelter. You know, when I need a dose of reality.” When he didn’t
respond, I continued timidly, trying to read his strange expression. “Do you
like dogs?”

“Yep.”
He nodded. “My family dog is sick, and it’s been really tough,” he divulged.

My
heart pulled with the instinct to console him, but I thought better of it. “Do
you ever think about getting your own?”