FRAGILE: Part 1 (4 page)

“Hey, hey, we’ve been talking,” I say and laugh. “He just asks a lot of questions about me every time I ask about him.” I realize I’m staring into a well-stocked liquor cabinet. It’s got everything I could have imagined, and I dimly recall watching Eli getting me another martini from this cabinet last night. I think he was down to just his pants by that point. Maybe nothing.

“Where’s Mr. Richardson at now?” Larisa asks.

“At his office,” I say.

“Ah. So did he tell you to wait for him?”

“No, and he sent me a new dress. I think he intends for me to leave.”

“But you’re not going to leave, are you?” Larisa asks. She laughs, and I can imagine her shaking her head. “Ruby! You are so obstinate sometimes.”

I grin, as I pick out a plump apple and set it on the kitchen counter, next to a jar of peanut butter I found. “Are you okay by yourself today?”

“Me? Are you joking? I’m lounging in my pajamas, coffee in one hand, chocolate in the other, watching TV. I’m in bliss.”

I laugh as I find an apple cutter in one of the drawers. “Alright. Well, let me know if you need anything.”

“I’ll just want to know all the details tomorrow,” Larisa says, a smile in her voice.

“Lunch?” I suggest. I suspect Eli’s going to work Sunday as well…and that assumes he lets me stay another night.

“It’s a date,” Larisa says. “Don’t tell Mr. Richardson.”

Laughing, I bid her a good day and hang up. I slice the apple, spoon some peanut butter onto the plate, and take a bite of apple with peanut butter on one end before walking around the condo some more. My headache is being persistent today, and I search through my clutch for medicine before getting myself a glass of water.

After finishing my water and eating the apple with peanut butter, I take my second shower, this time savoring it and using the stuff Mary got me. Afterwards, I change into the blue dress. It’s long-sleeved but shorter than I had anticipated, only coming midway down my thighs, and it fits me very well. I shed the dress, freshen up with my make-up kit in my clutch, and then tidy up my stuff, setting it into a neater pile in the bedroom. I’m not a neat-freak like Eli seems to be, but I know that nothing kills a romantic mood like a mess, and I figure it’s probably a big deal for Eli. It’s a little cool to be walking around naked, and I slip on the robe again and bump up the temperature a degree before going back, getting myself another glass of water, and then heading to the living room and watching TV from a fancy leather couch.

I don’t normally do nothing, even on weekends where I’m not officially working on my business, but today it feels good to rest. I’m amazed at how tired I feel. I just chalk it up to an amazing night and a hangover.

At five o’clock I turn on the radio of a nice sound system that’s wired throughout the place, set aside the robe, and then I head into the kitchen, feeling much more rested, hungry, and anxious to know what Eli will think of me still being here.

I find everything I’m looking for to cook up chicken with a nice strawberry and pecan salad. I don’t know if Eli is returning for dinner, but I make sure to cook enough for him. I’ve just set the sliced and seasoned chicken strips into the oven when I hear keys jingle at the front door, and I’m washing my hands when Eli opens the door.

“Good afternoon!” I say cheerily.

Eli freezes mid-step at the sight of me. After a few seconds, he takes another step into the building and closes the door behind him slowly. “Good afternoon,” he says, his tone guarded.

“Hungry?” I ask. I start shredding the romaine lettuce for the salad.

Eli sets his keys in a black glass bowl on a table by the door and walks towards me. As he comes around the counter, his eyes take in the fact that I’m completely naked, and he pauses, one hand resting on the kitchen counter.

“Did your dress not come?” Eli asks.

“Oh, it came,” I say. I’m having difficulty reading whether he’s happy to see me or not, although given that his gaze keeps running up and down my body, I guess he’s happy. “It looks very nice and fits well, thank you.”

Shifting back a step, Eli’s face hardens a little. “Why are you still here?”

“I’m sorry, is there another girl coming?” I ask lightly.

“No.”

“Other guests coming?”

“No.”

“Is it so bad that I wanted to see you naked again, then?”

Eli finally relaxes into a smirk. “Am I supposed to match you?”

I laugh. “Well, you’re sexy in clothes and out of clothes—so no hurry. But you should definitely match me at some point.” I slice strawberries into bits to add them to the salad. “How was your day?”

“Fine,” Eli says. He sits on a bar stool on the other side of the counters, watching me work. “What are you making?”

“Chicken with a strawberry and pecan salad. Anything you don’t like? Or anything you’re allergic to? I assumed not—since it’s your place.”

“I don’t like pears,” Eli says. “Not allergic to them though.”

“Pears?” I ask. “Why pears?”

“They have a funny taste and texture to me.”

“Okay. No pears, got it. Unless I’m mad at you, then there might be pears.”

Eli chuckles. “Would you care for a drink?”

“I’d love one. No more martinis for me though. I had way too many last night.”

Still snickering, Eli nods his head once in agreement. “So what would you like?”

“Eh, I like a lot of stuff,” I say. “What are you having?”

“I was just going to have whiskey, but since you’re here, how does a margarita sound?” Eli asks.

“Sounds excellent.”

Eli sets about getting ice from the refrigerator while I spread out pecans in a pan to roast them in the oven. “The way you were talking earlier today, I thought you worked Saturdays,” he says.

“Normally I do,” I say. I open the oven, put the pan with pecans inside, and check on the chicken before closing the oven back up. “But I was pretty tired today. Actually, been feeling a little more run down this month,” I add, thinking back to my schedule. I hadn’t worked weekends very much this month. “Guess I’m getting old,” I say.

Eli gives a snort in disbelief. “You’re not old. You could be a model.”

“Why thank you!”

He sets a very large margarita glass on the kitchen counter for me, the rim of the glass coated in salt.

“Now
that’s
how you do a margarita!” I say and take a sip. “Thanks!”

Nodding his head, Eli sheds his suit jacket, hangs it on the coat rack, and sits on the bar stool again. He leans forward, his eyes watching me as he takes a drink of his margarita.

After a long pause, Eli sets his margarita down. “I’m not suing you,” he says, his voice low.

I feel miffed that he brings it up, and I raise an eyebrow at him as I mix the salad together. “Is that why you think I’m still here?”

“Why else would you be cooking in my kitchen?” Eli’s eyes drop to my chest. “Completely naked?”

“Because I find you mysterious, attractive, and I thoroughly enjoyed last night and this morning,” I say. “And now I’m hungry.”

“This relationship won’t go anywhere,” Eli says, annunciating each word very clearly.

I’m a little hurt, but unsurprised, and I manage to hide it by chuckling. “Strictly professional then?”

Eli blinks in surprise, grins, and then he snickers. “Yes. Business relationships only, Miss Jennings.”

“Very well, Mr. Richardson.” I turn and give him a full view of my butt while I bend down to get the chicken and pecans out of the oven. I smile as I hear Eli laughing.

“So no boyfriend?” Eli asks. “I’m shocked.”

I shrug. “Kind of hard to meet guys when I work so hard on my business.”

“Have you had any boyfriends?” Eli asks.

“Two,” I say. “You?”

“No boyfriends,” Eli says. I laugh, shaking my head as Eli just smiles at me, watching my hands as I use tongs to set the chicken over the salad. “What happened to your last boyfriend?” Eli asks.

“He got upset that I was as passionate about my business as I am,” I say. “Working Saturdays and sometimes Sundays really bothered him. That’s what he said. Course, Larisa—that’s my assistant—said she’d seen him with another chick the same day he’d broken up with me.” I shrug. “Not sure why he felt the need to make up an excuse to say he was interested in someone else, but he did.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Eli says. “And the one before him?”

I smirk. “That was a much calmer breakup. We didn’t date long before we realized we just weren’t right for each other. He kept trying to fix me, and it annoyed the crap out of me. So I hired him as an employee, and it’s worked out much better since.”

Eli laughs. “Well, at least it worked out.” He takes a long drink of his margarita.

The ring of a cellphone breaks the air, the sound coming from Eli’s pocket. He sets his glass down and pulls out his phone and looks at the screen. “I need to take this,” he says. He steps a little away from the kitchen, holding the margarita in one hand. “Hey, Grandpa.”

Grandpa?
At last, I know something about Eli’s family; he has a grandfather.

“No, you’re fine.” Eli takes a sip of his margarita, staring off. “Yes.”

I mix the vinaigrette together, but I hold off pouring it over the salad. Since Eli’s busy, I set the dirty dishes into the sink as quietly as I can.

“Perkins?” Eli says. I look up to see him frowning. “Very well.” He glances at me. “Not tonight. I’m busy.”

I smile, as I pick my margarita up.

“Yes, tomorrow night will be fine. Thank you. Love you, too. Bye.”

It’s weird to hear Eli say those words. I watch him, as he sets his phone back into his pocket. “Grandpa?”

Eli looks at me carefully. “My mother’s father,” he says at last. He opens a cabinet and pulls out two plates. I search around and find silverware, and we take everything to the beautiful dark wood dining table in a room nearby, Eli and I sitting on opposite ends of one corner of the table.

After a few minutes of eating, Eli nods his head at his plate. “This is very, very good. Thank you.”

“Aw, you’re welcome,” I say. “Do you cook?”

“As little as I have to,” Eli says. He smirks, as I chuckle. “I know a few meals.”

“Alright, you’re cooking next time,” I say. We share a smile and keep eating for a bit. “Are you close to your family?” I ask.

Eli’s reaction is worse than this morning. I watch, as his body tenses, a shadow overcasts his face, and his eyes glaze over as if an opaque window were closing shut. “No.”

“I’m sorry,” I say quickly, afraid he’ll leave. I reach a hand out and touch his cold fingers. “It’s okay if you don’t want to talk about it.”

Eli, who had started to lean back, stops. His eyes focus on me again.

I take charge of the conversation and focus it back on myself. “I’m close with my mom. Not so much with my dad and my stepmom and stepsiblings—although I get along with them fine. We just don’t talk much.”

Slowly, almost cautiously, Eli’s broad shoulders relax back down. “Where is your mom?”

“Savannah, so not too far,” I say.

Eli nods once and returns to eating. “How does she feel about your business?”

“She loves it. I thank her for my name all the time.”

A small smile appears on Eli’s face. “She must be very proud of you.”

“Oh yeah.”

I debate asking Eli a reciprocating question about his family, but as I watch him sip at his margarita, I decide against it.
Mental note to self: Never ask Eli about his family again unless I’m hanging onto him and he’s got nowhere to go.
I search for something non-personal to talk about.

“So, when do you exercise?” I ask. I’d seen Eli’s exercise room. It had mirrors on all sides, something that had amused and delighted me, imagining watching Eli from multiple angles getting all sweaty working out.

“In the mornings,” Eli says.

“Would you mind if I joined you tomorrow?”

Eli smirks. “I don’t have any workout clothes for you. Should I ask Mary to get some?”

“No need. I’ll just do stretches.”

“Oh. Naked, then, I hope?”

I laugh, feeling relief that Eli is at ease again. “Sounds good. So how early?”

“I start exercising at five in the morning.”

Pointing my fork at Eli, I shake my head, glaring at him. “That’s an unholy hour! It’s a good thing you’re freaking hot.”

Grinning, Eli shrugs. “I’m a morning person.”

“Obviously. I’m not.”

“Obviously.”

Snickering, we share another smile as we finish eating. Eli stares at his empty plate, and then he looks up at me. I can tell he’s searching for something, but I don’t know what, and I give him a smirk. He suddenly reaches a hand across and takes mine.

“I’m still hungry,” Eli murmurs, his voice gaining a husky edge.

My heart skips a beat, and I give him a wry smile, as I feel desire course through my body. “Ready for dessert?”