In Pursuit Page 3

  A little while later, there’s a tap at my door and Claire pokes her head inside.

  “Whatcha doing?” she asks in a singsong voice.

  I jump up off my stomach and pat the bedding near me. “Just blogging a little. I didn’t wake you guys when I came in, did I?”

  She drops down next to me. “Not at all. We were both out, tired from the gym. Harris is gone now, so you don’t have to hide.”

  “I’m not hiding!” My voice sounds unnaturally high and defensive so I clear my throat. My hands flutter about the computer anxiously. Can she tell I was immediately attracted to him? “You just looked so peaceful, and I didn’t want to disturb you.”

  “Okay, okay, I’m just teasing you, little mouse. You don’t mind the nickname do you? I give them to all of my friends... and I’m hoping we can become that. Friends, ya know?”

  For someone who came off so confident, now Claire sounds unsure of herself.

  The feathers that were ruffled from the pet name immediately smooth over and I offer her a reassuring smile. “Never really had a nickname before, and I hate to admit it, but I am sort of meek, so I guess it fits.”

  “Oh, no!” She rests her hand on mine, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “I don’t mean it that way at all. It’s just that you’re sweet and gentle. I only mean it in the most complimentary way.”

  “Well, thanks. It’s nice to have a friend who gives me a nickname.”

  The silence between us is awkward for half a beat, and then Claire’s shiny happy face comes back.

  “I know the best Thai, we’re ordering in, and watching trashy TV.” With the hand she is already clutching, she drags me into the kitchen for our first official roommate dinner.

  Much later, we are both lying with our legs stretched out along the couch. Claire surprises me when she admits that she can’t get enough of a reality show following around a group of women in New York.

  “The single one tried to hook up with Harris at the Hamptons last summer. Can you believe?” She sounds nonchalant, like reality stars are always hitting on her brother.

  I stare at the curvaceous bombshell on the screen, heavy diamond earrings twinkle at us. “Her?”

  “Yes! We were partying at our friend’s house in East Hampton and she shows up like she was invited. Please, like we would mix with that skank.”

  Internally, I shrug. I don’t know what the rules are in East Hampton, but apparently showing up uninvited to a house party is gauche. Seems a little elitist to me, but I keep my mouth shut.

  “She threw herself at my brother, rubbing her barely covered tits all over him. He basically had her kicked out.”

  That doesn’t seem too out of character, based on the way he fought with Claire this morning.

  “Harris doesn’t date, or ever really talk to women outside of work, so why would he touch something as cheap and disgusting at her? I guess the coke dripping out of her nose was probably a turn off, too.”

  Yikes.

  She’s silent as I contemplate Harris and the curvaceous reality queen. Picturing it in my mind, a scantily clad woman throwing herself at him in that way makes me feel a bit sick. It must be the Thai that’s making me this uneasy. No, it couldn’t be my attraction to Harris. Not in the slightest.

  “Come to think of it, Harris hasn’t had a girlfriend in, like, years. That’s probably why he is always so grouchy. Lack of sex.”

  “Seriously?” I erupt in giggles, relief cascading through me. “You should find a willing candidate, and then he won’t shout at you.”

  “Ugh!” She throws her head back dramatically, covering her forehead with a hand. “Why is life so hard?”

  Companionable silence resumes as we watch the end of the episode.

  “I guess I should slither off into bed. Work and all tomorrow. What are you doing?” She twists her way up into a sitting position.

  “I am going to call Amanda in the morning, thank you, and after that, I’d like to check out the Merchandise Mart and then there is a fabric store I want to review for my blog. I’m going to try and stay busy.” We’re both standing. Out of years of picking up after myself, I bend down to fold the blanket that Claire disregards.

  As we walk out of the living room I pause in front of the photo that caught my eye yesterday. “Do you have a twin?”

  Claire joins me in front of the framed picture. At first she doesn’t respond, her eyes boring into mine like my dad might with a suspect.

  She appears satisfied with whatever she sees in me. “We look like twins, don’t we?”

  “A little.” I’m confused by her strange behavior. My question was innocent enough.

  “That’s Cooper,” she continues, almost dreamily. “The best brother ever.” Without another word she heads into her bedroom.

  I make a mental note to ask Sarah what she knows about Cooper Grant.

  It’s my first Monday in Chicago and, so far, I’m kicking its ass. Morning clouds tried to get in my way, but I mowed them down with a positive attitude, and now the sun is sparkling outside, reflecting my bright mood.

  Right now, I’m nibbling on a salad in the Merchandise Mart food court. The Mart is any interior designer’s dream. The gargantuan building is over 400,000 square feet of businesses selling wholesale furniture and architecture goods, among other things.

  It’s a little late for the lunch crowd, nearly half past one, but all of the tables are full. I manage to secure a two top and open my laptop in front of me to transcribe some of the notes I took.

  This morning I called Claire’s friend, Amanda McDaniel. Amanda asked me if I could come to her home tomorrow morning. It was a difficult task, but I was able to hold back my squeal of excitement when she suggested it. According to Amanda, she’s seen my blog and knows that I will be a perfect fit for her guest bedrooms. My first client is waiting for me, and only lives a few train stops away. We set an appointment to meet at eleven in the morning.

  After perusing showroom after showroom, the cork wedges I am wearing today started to rub painfully against to my pinkie toes, so I decided to come back and explore the rest of the Mart later. By the time I make it to the cafeteria, I have already spent four hours looking around and chatting with new business contacts.

  “Excuse me, is this seat taken?” My eyes pop up from my computer screen and meet a familiar face, which is strange, considering the only other people I know in this city are Claire and Harris, and Harris has never spoken to me other than a few choice swear words.

  It’s the guy from the grocery store, looking just as dapper as he did the day before. Today, he has on pressed navy slacks, cinched with a brown belt, and a light blue button down shirt. His eyes sparkle excitedly when they meet mine, like he’s glad to have found me.

  I can’t help but wonder aloud, “Are you stalking me?”

  He drops his tray on my table and holds up his hand in mock surrender. “I swear it’s not what you think. My boyfriend just says I’m super friendly, kinda like a puppy but better looking.”

  I laugh at his response. “Please, sit, this place is packed.”

  He bows in a gentlemanly gesture, then pulls a chair out and carefully sits down. “Thank you, my lady. And what can I call you?”

  “I’m Eddie.” I can barely suppress my giggles at his exaggerated actions. “From Arlington, Virginia. That’s right outside of DC, if you didn’t know.”

  “Eddie – what kind of name is that for a lovely flower like you?” He unfolds a napkin and drapes it across his lap, then begins to cut his salad into smaller bites. I’ve never seen someone eat so formally in a food court before.

  “It’s actually Edith. But I’ve only ever gone by Eddie, so that’s how I introduce myself.” I pause then shake my head at a sudden memory. “On my first day of kindergarten, when a teacher called for Edith Neff, I didn’t respond until the teacher asked if that was me. Then I burst into tears and demanded I be called Eddie, because I had no idea who belonged to that name. So, I usually just stick with
Eddie. It’s easier.”

  And Edith is the name my mother chose for me, I add silently.

  He bursts out laughing.

  “Seriously?”

  “Painful, but true.”

  “Okay, so we have a bit of an identity crisis. I can work with that,” he says with a wink. “Since we’re officially fast friends, I am going to call you Edith. It’s too beautiful of a name to waste. I’m Sean Lightmen.” We shake hands and I can’t help my giddy grin.

  Sean tells me that he is a senior accountant at one of the design houses with corporate headquarters in the Mart. He mentions that he grew up in the northern suburbs, just like Claire and Sarah.

  “Maybe you know my friends – Sarah Mendel and I went to college together, she’s the one who helped me find a roommate here.”

  “The name sounds familiar, but I think she is a few years younger than me. Despite how I may appear, I’m in my dreaded thirties.”

  I shake my head. “You don’t look a day over twenty-eight.”

  Claire and Harris are older, I wonder if he knows them. Maybe I can find out more about Harris. Slow down. I know all I need to know about Harris. He’s big, loud and aggressive, not someone I want to get to know more than a friendly hello and eye candy.

  “What about your roommate? I might know her.”

  “Um, Claire Grant.”

  “You’re shitting me, right?” He splutters around his salad, nearly spitting it in my face.

  “I shit you not.”

  “As in the Grants that basically own this city?”

  What! Sarah never said that.

  “Maybe?” I say meekly.

  “Do you know Harris? He is one of the hottest pieces of tail I have ever seen. God, I had the biggest crush on him in school. I always wished he was gay.”

  “I’ve only met him once, and he’s not that great,” I mutter, staring down into my food. It was immediately clear that the Grants came from money, but knowing they 'practically own this city' intimidates me.

  “Not that great? Please, tell me you are blind or a lesbian, because he is delicious. Whenever his pictures are in the society pages, I swoon.”

  “Let’s just say when I met him, he was less than friendly. He and Claire were fighting, and before you ask, I don’t know why. Claire is pretty cool.”

  Except for a few dramatic mood shifts.

  Probably not a good idea to share this assessment with Sean, I barely know him.

  “Also super gorgeous. Their parents must have had some voodoo going on to spit out perfect children like that.”

  Sarah told me a bit about the Grant family, but now that I’ve met Claire and Harris, especially Harris, I want to know more. “What can you tell me about them?”

  He raises an eyebrow. “You don’t know anything?”

  “Only the basics. Something about a law firm?”

  “Something about a law firm,” he scoffs. “It’s not just about that, the Grants are seriously connected in this town. Friends with the mayor and the owners of the major sports teams, they were legendary in high school. Private yacht party after the prom every year, even if they were too cool to go to a high school dance.”

  What have I gotten myself into? I’m just a cop’s daughter from Arlington, Virginia. Not even Washington, DC! Sure, I dated a guy whose father had a fancy political pedigree, but nothing on this level. Maybe that’s actually why Claire calls me little mouse.

  “You are one lucky chick. First, you’re rolling in the Grant social world. Second, you’re my new confidant.”

  Speaking of that, I bravely ask, “Not that I’m complaining, but is there a reason why you initiated conversation with me twice now?”

  Sean answers without missing a beat. “Like I said, I’m really friendly. You’ve got this classic sweet girl face that I couldn’t resist. And, in case you missed the first reference, I’m gay and I don’t want you as my groupie. Now, can we move past this and act like we’re already friends?”

  “I was really hoping we could.” I return his banter, relishing in the pace of the conversation. “How’s work so far today?”

  “Another day, another balance sheet. You know how it is with the creative types, they don’t care about the bottom line, just about the Feng shui. No offense, of course.”

  “None taken. If I didn’t have to pay my bills, I would focus on the flow, too.” I scrunch up my nose at the thought.

  “In the spirit of building a really quick friendship, tell me one thing about you that only your best friend knows.”

  “Isn’t that moving a little fast?”

  “Not for us, darling. We’re soul mates.”

  I roll my eyes, but I’m enjoying him immensely. Conversation flows naturally between us. “How do I know that you don’t say this to all the girls?”

  “I’m hurt you would even suggest that. Now, tell me something,” he demands playfully.

  “Okay, okay.” I ponder the question for a moment and then figure, what do I have to lose by telling him? “I have sung and played the piano since I was about five. The only people who have heard me are Sarah, my bestie, my dad, and my grandparents.”

  Revealing this to Sean makes me feel good, prideful. I know I sing decently, now it’s just a matter of having the guts to let someone I’m not close to hear me play.

  “Really? How’d you get into the business of singing?”

  “Well – er – my mother and grandmother were also musicians. And when I was really little, I discovered a piano in my basement. I begged my grandmother until she relented, and she taught me to play.”

  If he notices that I mention grandmother and not mother, he doesn’t comment. I’m talking about my music easily with Sean, but in a way it’s a painful memory. As much as I love to sing and play, my father never took interest in my passion.

  I shake myself out of the bittersweet memories and focus on Sean. “Now, you tell me something.”

  “That’s easy, I made out with a girl once in middle school just so I could see what boobs feel like. Turns out they’re underwhelming. Now that you’ve told me you play piano, you know I’m going to make you sing in public, right?”

  The way he abruptly changes the subject endears me to him further, but I cannot suppress my groan at the pronouncement. It’s like he read my mind. “Let’s take this friendship one step at a time.”

  His posture straightens. “You bet! I need to get back to work anyway. When are we doing this again?”

  “Let’s exchange numbers, and we’ll figure it out.”

  He digs into his pocket and produces a cell phone. I roll off my digits and he shoots me a message.

  Sean: Expect lots of texts from this number.

  Eddie: Expect lots of responses.

  After he’s thrown away his garbage, Sean returns to the table and kisses my cheek in farewell, engulfing me with the clean scent of his aftershave.

  “Goodbye, Edith. In case you couldn’t tell, this is the highlight of the day.”

  “Mine, too,” I answer truthfully, and considering it has been a fantastic day, that’s high praise.

  He departs with a confident turn and I return to typing my notes. The computer pings with an email notification, and I check my work account, signifying a new potential virtual client. I don’t think I’ve ever had this many good things happen to me in one day, ever. It must be something in the water here.

  That evening, I’m back in the apartment, running late. I’m rifling through my messy tote bag in the middle of the foyer, searching for my keys, when the door is yanked open and two tall, toned blonds in professional attire stand on the other side. Claire’s legs are shoulder width apart, like she is ready to strut down a runway. Her silky blue blouse is tucked into a slim black pencil skirt. At the bottom, her feet are hidden by designer shoes that probably cost as much as I pay in rent. He wears a tailored navy suit and a crisp white shirt. A gray tie is knotted carefully at his neck. In a word? Sex. Flutters of awareness ignite licks of desire down to my
toes.

  “Oh!” I gasp, dropping my bag on my foot in surprise, causing some of its contents to fling across the ground. “Ouch!”

  “Is my little mouse clumsy?” Claire asks with a laugh.

  The more I hear that nickname, the less I enjoy it.

  “Quite,” I confirm. I drop down to my knees to pick up my things. Then I spot it, next to a pair of shiny mahogany loafers. A tampon rolled right out of my bag and landed conveniently next to Harris’ foot. I don’t think it’s possible for this moment to get more embarrassing, until he crouches down to retrieve my lost item. An elegant hand extends to pick it up, and he waves the offending sanitary device in front of me.

  “This belong to you?” His voice is gruff, not an ounce of warmth in it.

  “Yes, thank you,” I mutter. I swipe it from his grasp, and scramble around the wood floor to collect the rest of my belongings. Claire just barely muffles her laughter, but I can hear her short giggles, probably at my expense.

  I right myself and smooth my shorts around my legs, knowing full and well that my cheeks are bright red. “Let me try this again. Hi, guys.”

  “Eddie, I’m Harris. I didn’t formally introduce myself when I saw you yesterday.”

  I look up and up and up from where my eyes are trained at the floor and catch his gaze. His steel gray eyes meet mine and hold firmly. I want to turn away, but I’m trapped. He’s locked me in place with his sharp attention.

  So, I guess we are pretending I didn’t overhear yesterday’s screaming match? I gulp on the inside. No man has ever made me feel this nervous. Maybe it’s his hard exterior, or maybe I’ve turned into a hopeless romantic in the three days that I’ve lived in Chicago. When he moves his right hand out toward mine, I stare at it in shock.

  “Shake his hand and put him out of his misery. He feels bad enough that he yelled at you. Isn’t that right, Harry?”