Zipper Fall (5 page)

“Your employees are right regarding your temperament. Although, I guess I deserved it this time.”

He arched his eyebrow. “Oh yeah?” He frowned, pulling a cell phone out of his pocket and aiming it my way. “Say ‘cheese’!”

And dammit if I didn’t grin my best, bruised-and-battered smile as he took my picture.

“I found this in your pocket,” he said, picking up a plastic bag full of cash.

I nodded. “Yeah. You have to find a better place to hide that. At least get a fake frozen dinner box or something.”

“Shaddap,” he said, but he sounded somehow deflated, as though the bite was all gone from his bark. He pulled the money out and counted it. Not a dollar was missing. “Any other clever security suggestion, Burglar-dude?” he asked, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

I paused thoughtfully. “Yeah, actually.”

He looked at me in expectant silence.

“First, talk to Haus downstairs. He’s easily distracted from screening visitors.”

“I’ve already done that. Who do you think called me, letting me know you were finally on your way?”

Oh. “Second, that safe of yours.”

His eyes bulged.

“Too obvious. Your taste in art is exquisite, yet you put such a piece of fake junk up there? In such a prominent location? A family photo would’ve been better. At least that’s genuine.”

He took few quick steps to the wall and tugged on the frame of the painting and let it swing open. He dialed the safe open, shielding his hand from my sight. Like I needed to know the combination. The heavy metal door opened and an automatic light came on inside. He peered at the contents. “Nothing seems to be missing.”

“Haven’t tried it yet. Safecracking takes more time, you know. Although this one looked about medium difficulty, at best.”

He spun at me, his face darkening with rage. “You impudent asshole!” He raised a fist as though he really wanted to slug me, but stopped himself as though he had just remembered I was still tied to his chair. Some kind of a misplaced chivalrous impulse must have taken over at that moment, because he cursed and pulled back. It was good to burgle a true gentleman. Lucky, even.

I watched him seethe, sucking down deep breaths as I tried to regain control. “Hey!” I cried out. “I would’ve returned it. I didn’t have to come back, y’know. You don’t have to hit a guy while he’s tied to your chair, Azz-hole!”

He came so close, our noses almost touched. “I didn’t hit you, now, did I.” He fixed me with a hard, penetrating look. I returned his stare. His irises were impossibly blue. You could get lost in eyes like that. They looked like swirling galaxies, pulling me right in.

Without really wanting to, my glare turned into a soft puppy-dog stare again. Some indescribable quality of his gaze was riveting; the color changed from a deep cobalt blue to the palest of sapphire, with tiny little sparks of silver in between. I felt like I was drowning—I had to look away. I examined his straight nose instead and then continued farther down until I stopped at his thin, pink lips. They were pressed together in anger right then, but I had seen them smile before and knew they could become generous and pliable, given just the right incentive…. I swallowed and fought not to look away, my face flushing.

“I see.” His voice was but a whisper. Then he ripped the tape off my limbs. “Get out and don’t come back. You’re lucky I’m feeling too fucking depressed to do anything about you.”

He didn’t have to ask twice. I walked to the bedroom as fast as dignity permitted and gave the empty bed but a quick glance. I stuck my head out the window; the wind had picked up, and rain threatened.

“Mind if I use your front door?” I asked.

“Sure do. You made it down, I’d like to see you make it up.”

“You won’t push me?”

“No, asshole,” he said, and his gravelly voice sent an inexplicable flush of heat through my body. “I wanna see you climb.”

I positioned myself on the ledge and caught the swaying rope. I clipped it to my harness like I was taught long ago and looked at the tall-and-gorgeous man who just stood there, watching my every move with visible fascination.

“Hey, Jack.”

He jerked his head up, not expecting to hear his given name.

“I could offer to make amends. Buy you a drink, you know?”

He scowled. “Get outta my place.”

I nodded, allowing the disappointment to show in my face. “Bye, then.”

My rubber soles gripped the moist façade with just enough friction and, with gloves on my hands, I could grasp the rope securely as I climbed my way up, enjoying the flex of my biceps and the push of my muscular legs. As I got above his window, I froze in midmotion, chancing a look down. There he was, leaning out and looking up, as though he was curious to see what I’d do next. His eyes betrayed an excited gleam, and his lips were stretched in a hint of a grin. He liked to watch me climb.

Poor guy, his life was boring. All he needed was a bit of excitement. Like me.

T
HE
alarm was kind of harsh the next day, blaring music right next to my ear. I slapped it and rolled out of bed. No sense delaying the inevitable. I showered and dressed in my crispest monogrammed dress shirt, with cuff links gleaming as they peeked from underneath my dark blue business suit. I decided against a red tie—the color was too loud for the way I felt after such a disaster of a night. I sifted through the collection of neckwear my sister bestowed upon me over the years, finally selecting one with an Escher fish pattern on it. Its shade of blue reminded me of a pair of blue eyes I couldn’t quite erase from my mind. He’d looked so intense—not at all mellow like after… you know…. Dangerous, somehow. Yet inexplicably attractive.

“
W
HAT
happened to your face, Mr. Gaudens?” Pillory looked me over. The bruised cheek and black eye were on one side of my face, and on the other side, my jaw sported a developing bruise topped by scratches from being gun-whipped.

“I fell off my bike,” I said as I let embarrassment tinge my voice. “I can be such a klutz!”

“You’ll have to make your apologies to your client. Mr. Schiffer will be here in an hour. Are you prepared?”

I nodded. “For sure! I think we can do them a lot of good, Mr. Pillory. We can control the cost by targeting the campaign to their next strategic growth areas—it’s just a matter of how far he’ll want to take it.”

Pillory gave me one of his calm looks and curved his lips in a slight gesture that passed for an encouraging smile. Then again, Pillory never showed much. “Very well, then.”

I was straightening my desk, getting the laptop ready to project my presentation onto the small screen in my office, and generally fussing before the new prospect arrived when I heard my cell phone have an orgasm in my pocket. I flushed at the memory of having seen Jack’s deep blue eyes in person as I checked the caller ID. “Hey, Reyna. I have ten minutes. What’s up?” It must have been important—we called only right before lunch or the end of work. Both of us had our hands full.

“That fucking asshole fired my ass, Wyatt. And it’s tied to you somehow.”

“What?” I couldn’t believe my ears.

“He came to work today, early from his vacation. He showed a picture of this guy around, asking if anyone knew him. So I said yes, and since I was the only one to recognize you, he told me I can pack up my things.”

My heart stilled. Never had I expected to drag Reyna into my extracurricular obsession.

“Hey, Wyatt. You alright? You looked like you had a bruised cheek in that picture.”

Guilt suffused me. My best friend got fired on my account, and now she was concerned over my welfare. “I ran into him, kind of. We exchanged unkind words… sort of. I called him what you generally call him and it came to blows, and… well… he took my picture. He said only his employees call him that, and I said his employee was right about his temperament. Shit, Reyna. I’m so sorry. I had no idea this would happen.”

I heard heavy breathing for awhile, expecting Reyna to explode.

“He hit you?” I heard her hiss.

“Well… I did provoke him, y’know.”

“What a jerk. Really, now. How many grown men do you know get in fights over trivial things?”

How many grown men do you know burgle such men’s apartments?

I took a deep breath, but before I could speak, her ringing voice sounded again. “Let’s meet for drinks tonight. Your treat, you jerk, since you’re still employed. And I’ll expect you to help me update my resume.”

J
UST
as I hung up, Frank Yamada, my assistant, stuck his head into my office, his soft, brown eyes wide with excitement. “Your appointment
has arrived, Mr. Gaudens! Mr. Schiffer felt ill, though. He sent a
substitute.”

He flashed me a nervous smile. He was slight, shy, and always nervous, a disaster in the making. It was a wonder he could function in his position without really screwing up.

I walked to the reception area, putting on my best professional face. Pillory was already waiting with our guest. He stood with his back to me, letting my eyes feast on the way his sharp suit enhanced his shoulders.

“Mr. Schiffer is ill with the flu, but he sent a substitute,” Pillory said. At that point, the man turned. I froze in place and words left me entirely as I recognized him. No wonder his shoulders looked so bloody enticing.

“Mr. Jack Azurri, please allow me to introduce our account manager, Mr. Wyatt Gaudens. He’s been instructed to take good care of you and your needs.”

I shook hands with Azurri. The pale, shocked expression on his face was soon replaced by a full-out grin.

“I’m sure I will find Mr. Gaudens’s service most satisfactory.”

I
DIDN
’
T
expect Azzuri’s hand to feel so warm. His grip was strong; he squeezed just a bit to let me know he had extra in reserve as I did my best to match him. He eased off with a knowing smile, his eyebrow arched and a grin still plastered to his face.

“It’s so nice to meet you, Mr. Gaudens,” he said as though we met for the first time ever, yet he still reminded me of a kid who had found the biggest Easter egg. He clasped my shoulder while still squeezing my right hand in his warm, generous hand, almost engulfing it. “I am sure we will work very well together.”

I tried to catch my boss’s eye. I had hoped he would intercede somehow instead of just standing there being all professional and observant. When I extricated myself from Azurri’s grip, I noticed his warm scent now clung to my shoulder, and I suppressed a shiver. Yes, he was very, very attractive. My job, however, was to sell his company our marketing services. Our eyes met, and I felt his gaze drop to the swollen bruises on my face. A twinkle of humor receded as he touched one of them with his fingertips.

“An accident?” he inquired.

“Mr. Gaudens had a mishap on his bicycle,” Pillory chimed in, finally taking pity on me.

“Right… right! I can be very clumsy at times.” I pulled my right hand out of his enveloping grasp. “If you’d care to follow me, Mr. Azurri.” I only hoped my voice was cool and collected, but there was no guarantee—his lingering warmth made me feel all mushy inside, and it took all the rigid effort I could muster to present a calm expression. I spun on my heel and preceded him to my office. Yamada trailed behind us with an eager, helpful expression on his face. Usually I’d chase him away, but I figured with Yamada around as a witness, my new client was less likely to bring up uncomfortable topics.

Under usual circumstances, these presentations were routine: find out what they wanted, show them your plan, discuss a mutual course of action, figure out how much they were willing to spend. No problem, right? Yet the familiarity and comfort of the routine process eluded me today. For one, I had the hardest time just making eye contact. It was in my best interest to stay away from those bewitching, impossibly blue eyes. I felt Azurri brush against me as he settled into the client chair; his spicy personal scent assaulted my senses, and suddenly I forgot where I was.

Shit. What am I doing, again?

“Um, sorry…. Here we go.” I tried to hum in a reassuring way, alarmed to find my voice quavering the slightest bit. I shot a glare at the man who bored holes into me with his amused gaze. All of a sudden I had to get away from him—just for a little while. I needed to buy a bit of time to compose myself. Yamada raised his eyebrows, silently asking if I needed any help. I nodded at Yamada and reached into my right pocket for the flash drive that contained my presentation. It wasn’t there. Flummoxed, I proceeded to check all my pockets, feeling like an idiot while items accumulated in a small pile on my desk. Finally, a familiar, silver flash drive appeared along with two pens, a few business cards, and a packet of Orbit gum.

“Can I offer you something to drink? Coffee? Tea?”
Or me?
My voice sounded only a bit steadier than before.

“Coffee would be great. Black, three sugars.”

I nodded at Yamada. “Please give Mr. Azurri a copy of the presentation, would you? I’ll go get his coffee.”