Open For Him (BBW / Billionaire Erotic Romance) (2 page)

For a second Macy thought about lying, taking credit for Stacey's work.  But Macy knew better, her luck wouldn't allow such a fib to pass without being caught.  After all, all she had to do was look at her shoes to prove just how great her luck had been going that morning.

“Does it matter?” Macy asked.

One little question and she felt like she had taken part of the conversation into her control. 

“Maybe it does,” the man said.  His face suddenly dropped, turning serious.  Still sexy, oh yes, but very serious.  “Tell me if you painted it.”

His look should have bothered Macy and she tried to tell herself to never forget that look, to never challenge that look in the man’s eyes, but she couldn’t lie to herself.  She enjoyed it.  She enjoyed his brooding sense and that sudden need to know something about her.  Macy felt important, she felt like she had his attention, and when he looked, he didn’t look at the painting, he looked right into Macy’s eyes. 

“I didn’t paint it,” Macy said.

She gave in too early, too quick, but that look... it just worked.

“Good,” the man said, “because that’s terrible.”

“It’s my friend’s,” Macy said and smiled.

Her face started to cool off but not her body.  The man looked surprised but contained himself by nodding.

“Well...”

“It’s by Stacey C.  She’s one of the biggest painters in the city.”

“Big as in...”  The man put his arms out and opened them.

The gesture made Macy look away.  She then caught her reflection in the gold plated walls of the elevator.  Of course her reflection looked distorted and much bigger than what she really was, but even then, even without the distortion, she was still bigger than a lot of women she knew.  Out of instinct and the need to cover herself up more than she already had been, Macy lifted the painting, not wanting the man to look at her hips.

“She’s very popular,” Macy shot back.  “People pay a lot for her work.”

The man put his hands up in defeat.  “Whoa.  It’s okay, I was just asking.  You must work for her, huh?”

“What makes you say that?”

“The way you defend her.  She pays you.  But I bet you have your own talents too, right?”

Macy tried her hardest not to smile, but then the man stepped towards her.  It was a subtle advance, but Macy was ready to gasp, wondering if he was going to touch her.

He leaned towards her and Macy could smell him again.  It was intoxicating, a scent that just radiated a man of power and success.  She instantly thought about that look he had given her.  What she wouldn’t give to see that look again... as he took his shirt off... and hers...

Macy started to step back and the man’s eyes looked down.

“What happened to your shoes?”

Embarrassed, Macy conceded, not wanting to play anymore flirting/talking games.  “I dropped coffee on them.”

“Sounds like a shitty morning.  Running a painting around town that’s not yours.  Dropping coffee on your shoes.  At least you got to meet me.”

Macy smiled, her body and face burning.  “Yeah, I guess you could say that.”

The elevator stopped at the ninth floor, maybe at the perfect moment, Macy wasn’t sure.  She had seen and handled enough for one morning.  Not to mention she still had to deliver the painting, get the check, and find a way to get new socks and shoes.

As the man exited, he stopped at the last second, just as the door was about to shut.  He stuck his hand out, stopping the doors. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow, around noon?”

“Excuse me?” Macy asked.

“Meet me on the elevator, tenth floor.  Noon.  Not a minute later.  I’m a very busy man.”

“I’m sorry, I don’t understand...”

The man winked and let the doors shut.  Macy watched with wide eyes, in shock, not sure if the man had been serious.

He couldn’t have been serious.

Come back tomorrow?  At noon?

Macy couldn’t do that.  She had work.

Plus, why would a man that sexy want anything to do with her?

“Just got three
more orders.”

Macy looked at Stacey, as she leaned across the counter in the small art gallery.  Her bright blonde hair was disheveled, looking like hell, messy, attempted to be tied back, a few strands complete with different colors of paint.  She looked tired, stressed, but there was a glimmer in her eyes that told the entire story.

A college dropout who dedicated herself to pursue painting, finally making it big.  Well, not millions big, but big enough that she was looking at it within a year or two.  Macy knew, she saw all the financial records for Stacey’s exploding business. 

“From yesterday?” Macy asked.

She smiled and just saying the word ‘yesterday’ made her body light up with excitement.  Yesterday made her think of... yesterday.  The elevator.  The stranger. 

Her eyes looked to the clock.

Quarter to twelve.

No way, Macy told herself.  No way in hell I’m going...

“Fifteen minutes until the big date, huh?”

“Stop it,” Macy said.  “I shouldn’t have said a thing.”

“You should go.  Take your lunch break.”

“No.  I can’t, Stacey.”

“Why not?  He invited you.”

“He’s a stranger.  I don’t know his name.  He looked at your painting, talked to me, and left.”

“He asked you on a date.”

“More like commanded me for a date.”

“That sounds nice.”  Stacey stretched her arms in the arm and sighed.  “I wouldn’t mind a man commanding me.  I could use it.”

“You could have any man in this city,” Macy said.  “Why don’t you go to the elevator for noon?  He was asking about your painting.”

Macy failed to mention that the sexy stranger didn’t care for Stacey’s painting, but that didn’t matter much at all.

“I’m not getting involved with a business man,” Stacey said.  “I need an artist.  A strong, rich artist.  Hung too.  I need something to play with...”

“Okay,” Macy said and stood up.  Her chair shot back and crashed against the wall.  “That’s enough talk for me.”

“What?  You don’t want to talk about sex?”

“No, not at all.”

“Why?”

Stacey smiled, goading Macy.  She backed away from the counter and put her hands to her hips, giving a snobby smirk, almost the same kind of smirk she used in the magazine that set her career on fire.  But now she had a different look to her.  One that made it seem like it had been years since she struggled to survive.  Macy sometimes wanted to remind Stacey that it had only been months, not years.  But she let it go, because that’s what Macy did.  She let things go.  Some things were easy to let go and others left a mark on her.  But those marks were able to be hidden by a smile.

“I just don’t want to talk about sex,” Macy said.

“Yeah, it’s been a while for me too.  Ever since things took off I sort of judge men now.  Ugh.  I hate it.”

Macy didn’t have a judging problem.  She looked at it as a men judging her problem, although she didn’t put herself out there.  She wasn’t even sure exactly what that meant anymore.

“So about the orders,” Macy said, reaching down for a yellow invoice form.  She wrote the invoices by hand, taking notes, then entered them into the computer.  Those basic business and accounting classes in college finally came in handy.

“They’re for a new cafe opening half hour away.  They called, saw the article” - Stacey waved her hands above her head, like she always did when she mentioned the article - “and wanted my business.  I have a few projects I’ve been working on but they wanted something custom.  We video chatted and I drew some stuff on the spot and they loved it.”

“That’s great,” Macy said.

The jealousy flared, but it was more of an awe than actual jealousy. 

Macy was well aware that she could have sent her artwork into the magazine contest but she decided against it.  For all she knew, she could have been the one getting phone calls and making tons of money.

“Now you’re looking at about ten minutes,” Stacey said.

“I’m not leaving my desk,” Macy said.

Before Stacey could retort, the phone rang.  Macy smiled and picked it up, chasing Stacey away.

Anything to do with real life Stacey avoided.  She was really meant to just draw and paint.  And dream.

Macy handled the rest.

At ten after twelve, Macy looked at the clock, feeling her heart twist in regret.  She knew things like meeting a man in elevator were only meant for movies, but it could have been something.

Or not.

She thought about his build, his smell, the way he looked at her.

His smooth voice, his witty personality.

Then she reminded herself it was a few minute elevator ride, not a lifetime of memories being wasted.

“Get over it,” Macy whispered and turned her attention back to work.

She swore to herself the next time she would look at the clock, it would be time to go home.  To go home and paint.  To go home, to her cramped apartment, and let her emotions bleed out on paper with some paints and whatever came to mind.

She thought of gold cufflinks, the edges rough, smearing out into the rest of the picture.  When she closed her eyes, she could see it.  As the minutes went by, Macy felt her body twitching, desperate to just go home.  She considered asking Stacey if she could leave early but Stacey would end up calling her and bothering her.

A barrage of phone calls came in, many of them leaving messages, keeping Macy’s afternoon alive and moving.  She cheated once, looking at the clock around three.  She had one more hour to go.

Just one little hour.

Just one...

The door opened and the small bell that Stacey insisted on hanging from the top of the door rang, Macy stood up, ready to greet the potential customer.  (Or an old bill collector from the days when Stacey could barely keep the electric on in the gallery.)

It was neither of the two.

When Macy saw him walking towards her, one hand in his pocket, his other hand carrying a black bag, she wasn’t sure what to look at first.  Question the contents of the bag, look at his rounded shoulders, his perfect jaw line, his dark eyes, or just the entire aura he gave off.

As he closed in on her, Macy suddenly felt in trouble.

“Hey,” she managed to say, sounding unprofessional.

“You never showed,” the man said, dropping the bag to the floor with an echoing thud.

“I, uh, well, I work.  Here.”

“Obviously,” he said.

He looked annoyed, angry, and let down.  His stare was strong, almost as commanding as in the elevator.

Macy enjoyed it.

A lot.

“I can’t just leave when I want,” Macy said.  “I don’t own the place.”

The man looked around at the walls, layered with different paintings by Stacey.  “So this is where the crappy art comes from?”

Macy stood up, shaking her head.  “Careful.  Stacey is in the back.”

“Like I care,” he said.  His attention came back to Macy.  “I told you to be there at noon.”

“And I never said yes.”

Macy felt flirty and confident behind her desk.  The man couldn’t see her curves or her knees as they shook with a mix of fear and excitement.  How many times in her life had she been able to flirt with a man as sexy as this?  Macy could probably count the times on one hand.  With some fingers leftover.

“I never asked you,” the man said.  “I told you.  Big difference.”

That made Macy’s lips pucker.  The man was nothing but pure confidence, not a worry in the world about Macy’s reactions or the reactions of the world surrounding him.  He acted as though he controlled the world, not the other way around. 

“I waited for you,” he said, “and I missed a big meeting because of it.”

Macy gritted her teeth.  She didn’t want to feel guilty for this, but the man had been expecting her...

“I’m so sorry,” she said.  “Did you get in trouble?  With your boss?”

The man laughed.  A loud laugh that bounced off the tall walls in the gallery.  He tapped his hands on the top of Macy’s desk.

“I don’t get in trouble,” he said, “but I am known for causing it.”

“And what do we have here?”

Macy looked to her left, happy to see Stacey walking towards the desk.  No matter how messy she looked, she never lacked confidence.  For a second, Macy pictured Stacey and the sexy stranger together.  They would be a better fit, for sure.  Their personalities were hot and large, and would certainly result in some wild moments together.

Macy put her head down, trying to chase those thoughts away, fighting the urge to be jealous. 

“You must be Stacey C.,” the man said.  He extended his hand and to Macy’s surprise, Stacey took it.

Stacey didn’t believe in touching people, and she didn’t like when people called her out by name.  Stacey preferred the
oohh
and
aahh
star treatment, when it came.  Again, it was something that bothered Macy because it wasn’t too far in the past that Stacey stood on the sidewalk with a small collection of her paintings, handing out flyers, talking - and touching - anyone she could to get some kind of attention to her artwork.