In Pursuit Page 7

  A feeling of distress hangs in the air, Claire is nibbling on her lower lip, and looking at me hopefully. This is unlike her practiced pouting. She looks genuinely concerned and I can’t deny her… or the chance to spend more time with Harris.

  “Where do I sign up?”

  Sarah: Thirty six hours.

  I scowl at the cryptic text message. She knows math is not my favorite subject, even with my experience as family accountant at my dad’s request.

  Eddie: Meaning?

  Sarah: The amount of time you’ve had to tell me what’s going on with Harris!

  Eddie: You know who he is, Greg told you everything already. What do you want from me?

  Sarah: All the details, you fool!

  She adds several angry looking emoticons, and I stick my tongue out at my phone like she can see me.

  Eddie: I’m meeting friends for lunch – I’ll call you after.

  Sarah: For the record, I’m only allowing this because you are spending time with new friends but you need to remember two things. A – no one can replace me and B – you owe me the dirt!

  Sarah is right. Almost two days have passed since Thursday night’s dinner with Greg and the Grants. Instead of psychoanalyzing Harris with my best friend, which sounds exhausting, I’m waiting on Saturday brunch with Sean and his boyfriend.

  The menus on the patio table thump unceremoniously at the arrival of my dining companions. Two chairs squeak as they are pulled back from the table.

  “Are we interrupting a love affair with a text message?”

  I greet Sean and his boyfriend, Luke, with a sheepish smile. I hop up from my seat and give Sean a hug. “Sorry, my friend is on my case. Such a nag!”

  “You must be Luke,” I say as he sweeps me into his arms.

  His body is thin but muscular and he smells like cinnamon. Luke’s affection feels warm and welcoming, and I instantly like him.

  “Yes, and you are Edith.”

  I grin at his use of my given name.

  Once we place our orders, they begin their interrogation.

  “Harris Grant. Go,” Sean demands excitedly.

  “Go where? What does that mean?”

  “One time, I sat next to him at a basketball game. Not exactly next to him, since he had court side seats and I was a few rows back, but fuck me, he is so fucking hot. Please, tell me you’ve seen him shirtless or had sex with him. Both would be acceptable answers.”

  I can’t stifle the laughter. “Luke, how do you put up with this guy?”

  A hipster waitress, wearing an ironic t-shirt and ultra tight black skinny jeans, plunks our meals down on our table without so much as a smile. Once she departs back inside the restaurant, we continue as if never interrupted.

  The lankier of the couple wraps an arm around his boyfriend’s shoulder affectionately. “All great relationships have their quirks. Ours is Sean.”

  “Hey!” He swats Luke’s grip away with a pout. “Take that back.”

  Luke pulls Sean back into his embrace, nuzzling his neck. “I’m sorry, forgive me?”

  “Could you two be more affectionate?” I ask with a fond smile.

  “Is that jealousy I hear, Edith?” Sean teases.

  Unfortunately, that’s not too far from the truth.

  “Who is Edith?” A familiar, bubbly voice asks.

  Three curious sets of eyes turn toward the sound and, to my horror and their excitement, the Grants crowd around our table. They are both wearing crisp tennis whites, displaying their immaculate bodies.

  “Hey, roomie,” I muster up as much cheer as I can.

  The last time I saw him, he was driving Greg back to his hotel. Last night, I stayed holed up in my bedroom, telling Claire that I only go out to party one night per weekend. That response satisfied her and she spent the evening with her fun time fuck, whomever he might be.

  “Edith was a gift from her great grandmother. Isn’t it a beautiful name?” Sean asks.

  Claire nods. “Sure is, but I think Eddie fits my roomie better. Don’t you agree, Harry?”

  “She’s an adult. I think she can decide which name she prefers.”

  “I’m Sean Lightmen, and this is my boyfriend, Luke Aves.”

  Claire gives them a polite but cold smile. “Charmed, I’m sure. Harry and I are grabbing a bite before tennis, so we need to run.” She leans down and makes a kissing noise next to my cheek.

  “What just happened? Are we on a TV show or is that real life?” Luke asks as he watches them retreat.

  “It’s my reality.” I sigh. “Claire normally isn’t so unfriendly, but Harris doesn’t exactly bring out the best in her.”

  “I doubt it has anything to do with that tall drink of water. It’s a known fact that Claire’s a queen bitch. I saw it in high school. But if she’s your friend, I wouldn’t worry about it. When you’re on Claire’s good side, she’s loyal. Or, at least, that’s what it looked like to someone who actively stalked the popular crowd,” Sean says. “Let’s talk about the scientific wonder that occurred before us in that entirely too brief exchange.”

  I push my food away from me. My appetite has decided to leave me, my stomach tumbling like clothes in a dryer. How can one guy affect me like this? It’s unheard of. Unless it relates to my parents, my emotions are pretty even keel. Never getting upset when a date didn’t go well, or a boyfriend dumped me, Sarah sometimes jokes that I am stone when it comes to the opposite sex.

  Luke bites on Sean’s statement. “And that is?”

  “When Mr. Sex on Two Legs heard that Eddie is actually Edith, his steely facial expression melted into a puffy, sentimental cloud. He practically dropped to his knees and begged for her good graces.”

  “Care to elaborate on that delusion?” Luke continues to question him like an interviewer and his subject on a television news magazine.

  It’s too late, though, Sean’s words trigger a reaction he probably didn’t expect. When he makes the statement, I bang my knee against the table, knocking my water glass into my lap. The liquid makes a dark stain on my white dress, droplets of water soaking the skirt. The two jerks can’t contain their laughter, Luke falling over on top of the table, chuckling loudly.

  “Little mouse, did you have an accident?”

  I smile tightly at Claire and Harris who, of course, emerge at this moment. Scooting my chair back out behind me, I kneel down and look for the plastic cup. I locate it in the center of the table and reach out to get it. As I crawl out, my head knocks into something hard. Very hard.

  “Oh!” I whimper.

  “Fuck! I’m sorry,” he says in his gruff way. Harris is also on all fours, under the table trying to – help me?

  Our eyes meet, and time stops. Everything going on around us melts into the background. Under the table, just a few breaths away, Harris Grant becomes the center of my universe. It takes all the internal strength I have to hold myself back from mashing our lips together. Just one second is all I need – to know what he feels like would be divine. My breathing becomes ragged and my body, against my brain’s protests, starts to sway forward. So close...

  Harris abruptly backs away, leaving me gaping in his wake. Just when I think he wants nothing to do with me, he wraps his hands around the tops of my arms and gently pulls me to my feet.

  “Alright, then?” He’s eyeing my forehead in concern.

  “Fine, thank you.” He wordlessly hands me a cluster of napkins from the table.

  “I should go,” he says. I belatedly realize that Claire is no longer standing at her table, and the annoying honking coming from down the block must be her demanding Harris’ attention.

  “Thanks.” My voice sounds breathless.

  I want you.

  Harris lets out a breath and then shakes his head. “See you tonight.”

  Then he’s walking away again, never staying long enough for me to figure out what he is thinking.

  I drop back into my chair, once again legless.

  “Screw him, or I will,�
� Sean threatens.

  I slump forward, not caring that my sundress is sopping wet, and press my forehead into my palms.

  “Explain this party again,” I say to Claire, as we settle into the buttery black leather of her town car. We’re on our way to the Franklin & Smith soiree. Just like Claire “suggested,” I’m wearing one of her dresses. It must be a micro-mini on her, because the white eyelet dress I’m wearing reveals an awful lot of leg.

  “Louder music, Marcus!” Claire directs the driver and he increases the volume on the Top 40 hit blasting in the car. She turns toward me and after a roll of her eyes explains, “The partners do a summer party to boost morale,” she uses quotation marks around the last bit to show her sarcasm. “Basically, we go to an outdoor venue, get hammered, then go to a club. Like I said, I need a date this year to get through it. These are usually painful. Harris expects me to be on my best behavior because he’s a partner and all. Blah, blah, blah.”

  “So you admit you’re just using me for my amusing conversation?” My voice strains over the pulse of the music.

  She smiles broader. “You’re the best date I could have, ever!”

  We pull up in front of a hotel on Lincoln Avenue, not too far north from our apartment. Marcus opens the door for us and extends his hand to help me out of the car.

  “Thank you,” I say gratefully and he nods politely.

  Claire whisks by him without a second glance, and I teeter after her on my four-inch heels. We enter the elevator and she presses the button for the roof.

  “Amanda will be here with Peter. Have you seen him?” she asks dreamily.

  “Yes! He is smoking.”

  Not nearly as good looking as Harris.

  “Be prepared. You might faint when he gets close to you,” Claire responds just as we reach the roof.

  The doors open and we walk through a small foyer out to the deck. There’s the breathtaking view of downtown Chicago. Servers twist between the guests, handing out hors d'oeuvres and wine. The bars are situated on either side of the entrance, keeping the majority of the deck space open.

  I sigh softly to myself as I take in the scenery. “This is unreal.”

  She swipes two glasses of white wine from a waitress when she pauses near us. “I guess,” Claire says noncommittally. “To us!” She giggles, raising her hand in a toast and I join her jovial mood.

  “To us!”

  We clink our glasses then make our way into the crowd. Claire surprises me and sticks to my side, not interacting with any of her colleagues. While we chat, I survey the crowd for Harris. I want to see him so badly. Then, yes, looming above three stuffy looking men in creased pants and polo shirts, he chats while a serious look settles across his face. Tonight, he’s wearing a pair of dark jeans and a pale blue button down shirt, tucked neatly into his pants. I shift my weight on my brown stilettos, wondering if he will notice me. Just when I think Harris might look at me, a man with salt and pepper speckled hair appears in my line of vision.

  “Claire, how nice of you to join us. Late, as usual,” he says coldly.

  “Don’t be an asshole, Landon,” Claire snaps back.

  “Well, we can’t all be as sweet as you, can we?” Landon says, completely ignoring me. “May I have a word?”

  Claire flashes me an apologetic glance and follows the man as he leads her a few feet away.

  I’m standing awkwardly alone, studying the people I don’t know and sipping my drink when a warm hand settles on my shoulder sending a pleasurable jolt through me.

  A voice rumbles, “Edith, there you are.”

  I turn slowly and glance up at him. My name flows from his lips smoothly. It has never sounded so right to me, to be called Edith. In his voice, it is almost musical; a sweet word.

  “Hi, Harris.” There is nothing else for me to say to this guy, who I have been endlessly crushing on. He hasn’t moved his hand from my skin, and this time I do sigh out loud. The effect he has on me is soothing, a warmness fills my chest and I want to sink into his side.

  I am meant to be tucked against him.

  At least, that’s my wish.

  “Did Claire abandon you to the wolves?” Narrowing his eyes, he stares deep into mine. I’m not sure what message he is trying to convey.

  “Sort of. She went off with one of your co-workers.”

  Harris' gaze immediately leaves mine and his attention is gone, consumed by the quest to find Claire. “Did you see where she went?”

  Reality check. He’s ultimately looking for his sister, not interested in spending time with me.

  “There you are! I’ve been looking all over for you!” Amanda appears at my side, and loops her arm through mine. “Can I steal her away from you?” she asks Harris.

  “Yes, by all means.” He’s preoccupied, barely noticing our departure.

  Amanda begins tugging me down the patio, toward the glass partition designating the edge of the deck. “You looked like you needed to be saved.”

  “I’m not sure, to be honest.”

  “Something’s going on between you two,” she states firmly.

  This is not a conversation I’m prepared to have with a client, or Claire’s best friend.

  “I did need to be rescued, thank you. Harris and I don’t really get along well.” I stick to that story, even though it’s not really true anymore.

  “What?” Like Claire, she quickly grabs us two drinks, and I begin to gulp it aggressively to try and stall the conversation.

  “Drink up, girl. Two hot guys have their sights on you.”

  I nearly spit out my wine into her face. “Who is the other guy?”

  “Ah, someone was asking me about you. He definitely – “

  “He, who? What are we talking about?” Claire interrupts, punctuating her questions with a long swallow from her glass of champagne.

  “Jake Warden asked me about our sweet Eddie. He wants her to come out with us tonight,” Amanda says.

  “Jake – that would be so perfect! He’s a junior partner at the firm, so posh,” Claire says excitedly. “Don’t worry, Mandy, our girl here is coming out tonight, and it’s going to be the best of the summer. Everyone will be talking about it until Labor Day.”

  I nod my head. What can I say to avoid this? I’ve already pretty much agreed to going out with them, and I don’t want to upset Claire by disagreeing.

  We spend another hour at the party, and Claire and Amanda introduce me to some of their friends, attorneys and their significant others. To my delight, I meet some potential clients, and get a few phone numbers to follow up with next week.

  Claire weaves our hands together and leads Amanda and me toward the elevator. Waiting for us are Harris, and Amanda’s drop dead, stunningly handsome husband, Peter. He greets me with his eyebrows raised when we enter the elevator.

  “You must be the Eddie that everyone is raving about.”

  “That would be me. Nice to meet you, Peter. I’m really looking forward to working for you.”

  His smile turns lascivious, but Amanda and Claire are too caught up in a conversation about the Hamptons to notice. Harris is on his phone, typing quickly.

  “And I working with you.” His left eye drops in a quick, sultry wink.

  What. The. Fuck.

  I glance back at Peter, and he is eyeing his wife adoringly. Maybe I’m mistaken? He couldn’t have been hitting on me. That would be completely inappropriate.

  I focus on trying to watch Harris out of the corner of my eye and keeping my breathing steady, because I can inhale his scent and it is divine.

  Once we’re in Harris’ SUV, the trip to the apartment doesn’t take long. Soon we’re climbing out and heading upstairs into the apartment.

  Inside our apartment, the girls head back into the bedrooms to change into “going out gear,” as Claire calls it. Luckily, Claire doesn’t try to pick my wardrobe this time.

  I select an outfit Sarah and I bought earlier in the summer: black leather shorts and white top. My brown sho
es are replaced with high black sandals that have a skinny heel and a slim ankle strap.

  After I refresh my hair and makeup, I slip out of my room and glance toward the living room. Harris sits in one of the armchairs, one leg casually crossing over the other. Peter is sprawled on the sofa, a cocktail in his hand. The girls are nowhere in sight, so I head over to Claire’s room and knock lightly on her door. When I get no response, I slowly enter.

  “Hey, are you guys almost ready?” I call. The bathroom door is slightly ajar, so I peek my head inside. What I see inside shouldn’t shock me, but I can’t help gasping.

  “I’m so sorry!” I spin around, and rush out of the bathroom.

  The sight of Claire and Amanda bent over the bathroom counter, snorting lines of a white powder flashes before me, even though I no longer see them.

  In the hallway, I close the door gently behind me, then take a few deep breaths to settle my frantic emotions. I don’t like drugs. Not just because my dad is a cop, and would kick my ass from here to Los Angeles and back if he knew that I lived with someone who uses, but mostly because the night my relationship with Jared went to shit, he was high on cocaine. I roll my shoulders back to muster some semblance of calm.

  “Harris, can I get you anything to drink?” I ask politely when I enter the living room. I want something to keep me busy, rather than thinking about my roommate and her drug habit. This doesn’t bode well for a long lasting living arrangement, but that’s something I’ll have to ponder later.

  “I’m good.”

  He rubs his hands through his cropped blonde hair like he’s frustrated. The movement reminds me of one of my dad’s habits. He would brush a hand through his hair or across his forehead sometimes when he felt uncomfortable or agitated. When dad gave me the “you’re going to get a period” talk at ten, he must have pushed his hands through the dark brown locks so many times that he permanently destroyed his hairline, because it has only lost ground since then.