Page 17 of Envy
CHAPTER SIX
Adam and Wyatt spent all week documenting the operations of the various departments and senior level positions at Weston Commercial. After the first day of lunch together, I didn’t see Wyatt much. Adam kept him busy and away from me as much as possible. Out of sight almost equaled out of mind. Not much has changed in the past ten years in that area.
He’s never very far from my thoughts. Always lurking in the back of my mind, waiting to pounce with full force when I least suspect it.
It’s finally Friday, and I have the board members nailed down. After spending countless hours on the phone and in meetings, I’ve filled all the positions, and they’re ready to start picking Wyatt’s brain before finalizing his replacement. But first, they insist on having a dinner party at an exclusive executive club. They claim the relaxed atmosphere makes everything seem friendlier and helps acquisitions go smoother. I say they just want an excuse to meet for food and drinks, but if that’s what it takes to get Wyatt Weston out of my life for good, I’m game.
“Wyatt, can I speak to you in my office, please?” I ask when I approach him and Adam in the conference room.
“Of course.”
He follows close behind me, and the spicy scent of his masculine cologne assails my senses. Focusing on the task at hand is suddenly extremely difficult. I mentally shake off the distraction and gesture toward the open seat in front of my desk.
“The board members are confirmed, so we’re ready to move to the next step. They requested we join them at The Fresian Executive Club tonight at eight for cocktails and dinner. They prefer to meet under social conditions before they begin the official exit interview process. I’m sorry for the late notice. The chairman contacted me last night, and I didn’t want to disturb you because it was already late. Can you arrange to be there?”
“I think I can rearrange my schedule and make it work. My date may not be very pleased with me.”
“You’re welcome to bring her. Everyone will have a plus one—dates, significant others, mistresses, whatever.”
He has a date tonight. I should be glad. No temptations. No second thoughts. No regrets. This is almost over.
“Are you bringing a date tonight, Megan?”
My stare is impassive as I ignore his question and write down the address to the club. “Be here by eight tonight. The dress code is business formal.”
He takes the paper from me, his fingers brush across mine and hold on. That old flash of electricity shoots up my arm. My eyes fly up to his, and I know he feels it too. But he’s watching for my reaction, checking my feelings for him, testing my resolve. I jerk my arm away and narrow my eyes at him.
“Don’t be late, Wyatt. Don’t waste our time.”
“Wouldn’t miss it for the world, Megan.”
********
In the ten years since I left Savannah, I can count my lovers on two fingers. The first one was while I was in college and was merely a one-night stand. After too many drinks at a frat party during my senior year, I made the stupid mistake of throwing caution to the wind. I wasn’t drunk by any means, but the buzz I had going was enough to strip my inhibitions. When the deed was done, I slipped out of his bed before he woke and sprinted back to my apartment.
I couldn’t help but compare him to Wyatt. Even though I hadn’t felt Wyatt in four long years, I couldn’t forget one second of our time together. The way Wyatt touched me. The way my body stretched to make room for him. The way we fit together perfectly. The sighs, moans, and screams he so easily elicited from me. The intimacy we created and the deep feeling of contentment afterward had been perfect.
All of that was missing with my single-night lover. The physical act was there, but it was nothing to brag about. There were no feelings attached. No urgency or craving. We went through the motions, but the entire act felt robotic. When we’d finished, he disposed of the condom and passed out on the bed beside me, unaware I lay there staring at the ceiling, wondering if I’d ever enjoy sex again. His soft snores assured me he was fast asleep, and I eased out of his room and his life in the darkness. No walk of shame in the light.
Lover number two, Russell, is better than the one-nighter, but not as skilled as my friend BoB…who resides in my nightstand drawer. Russell and I worked together as stock brokers, and our arrangement has always been straightforward. No strings, no relationship, no entanglements—just occasional sex. If one of us isn’t interested, or seeing someone at the time, there are no hard feelings. Because there are no feelings involved. Russell and I go months in between hooking up. Since we’re both workaholics and relationship-phobic, it works for us.
When the chairman called me last night, I immediately called Russell.
“Hey, Russell, it’s Megan,” I said when he answered his phone.
“Yes, I know who you are, sweets. I was just thinking about you.”
“That’s not why I’m calling, Russell. I need a favor. I need you to be my date for an executive meeting tomorrow night. Can you make it?” I explained the function and background to give him a better sense of what to expect. And why I was so desperate for a date. I may have left out my history with Wyatt.
“You know, you’re the only one I’d do this for. No one else could tempt me into going to a get together like this. I can’t even call it a party. It’ll be a stuffed-shirt, smelly cigar smoke, brandy in a crystal tumbler kind of party. Not even close to my scene.”
Russell’s scene that he’d repeatedly tried to get me to attend with him was a high-class, private sex club where nothing was taboo. Big surprise, I was nowhere near ready for exhibitionism. I’d had my fill of that.
“Thank you, Russell. Thank you, thank you, thank you. I’m sorry to put you through this, but not sorry enough to let you off the hook.”
He laughed good-naturedly and agreed to pick me up at seven.
When we hung up, my thoughts moved back to Wyatt again, of course. He said he’d moved to New York recently and I had no idea if he had a girlfriend or not, but I wasn’t about to show up to that party alone. Especially not when he’d already confirmed he wouldn’t be alone. I know he threatened to ask Chelle to lunch, but I also know he wouldn’t have gone through with it. That’s why I called his bluff on it.
