Bedazzled (The Beguiling Bachelors Book 1) Page 3

  Business was slow, allowing Keeli the luxury of staring at Wyatt over the tops of the heads of those surrounding him. She admired his hair, pushed back in front and curling along his neck. She wondered how he managed the perfectly trimmed shadow on his square jaw and what it would feel like to run her cheek against the scruff. Everyone around him appeared hot and sticky, while he appeared cool and…well, perfect.

  “Do you think he remembers me, Clarice? I bet I never registered as a blip on his radar. Why would he remember me?” Keeli was starting her usual litany, and Clarice knew from experience that in 30 seconds Keeli would be talking about how Wyatt was so influential, so rich, and too important for her. Even if Clarice agreed, Clarice knew that Keeli’s insecurities, once unleashed, would just spiral.

  “Don’t go there honey. You are just as good as he is. You are probably a much nicer person, too. Rich people are snobs. I read in the New York Times that rich people have less empathy. Look at you. You care so much. Those rich folks have no feelings.”

  Keeli’s mind hovered on the word ‘feelings’. It was all about the feeling, the touching. Keeli was certain Wyatt did not know or remember her, although she could not get him out of her head. She remembered his touch. She never for a moment forgot the instantaneous, electric reaction she had to his fingertips. It was a moment etched in her memory and on her body. She craved an opportunity to repeat that touch and so much more.

  “He has plenty of feelings, Clarice. Remember, he felt me.” With a laugh, Keeli turned to assist two young women looking at her collection, keeping sight of Wyatt out of the corner of her eye.

  She longed for him to stop at her booth, wanting an excuse to connect and, in truth, because she needed every penny from every sale right now, even a sale to Wyatt’s current girlfriend. With the sluggish economy, plenty of people wandered the art fair but few bought more than small items. Keeli was earning enough to cover her material costs, fees and displays, but there was nothing left over that could be considered a regular salary. It was not reassuring that other artists were also complaining and looking to increased sales at the Gold Coast Art Fair or perhaps Evanston or Milwaukee. Keeli could not afford to wait. She needed at least three significant sales today if she was going to be on time with her June rent payment.

  This was the third weekend in a row that Keeli was on her feet at a long, tiring art fair. With the addition of set up and take down, they ate into her creative time. However, Keeli was well aware that if she sold enough it was all worth it. Even better would be to catch the eye of just one boutique owner. It would just take one, if it were the right one. Plenty of people stopped to admire her work, but cash paid the bills, not compliments.

  Battling her natural shyness, she resisted returning to the back of the booth and “The Tempest,” standing out front, trying to attract more business and racking her brain for an excuse to meet Wyatt. She wanted to meet him for real and progress past that moment in the elevator. After all these months, Keeli was looking for an opening that would allow her to find her voice and connect with him. She felt ensnared by him, his easy confidence, the warmth in his smile and his sexy body. She had never forgotten that elevator encounter and now she needed to seize her chance to rekindle what she felt was an intense and very real chemistry.

  At least, I feel it. Would he even remember me?

  Doubts always plagued Keeli when she saw him. He had crossed paths with her at almost a dozen art fairs between last summer and this spring. He sauntered past the artwork with a different woman on his arm every week. Each woman looked like a model, long and lanky, dressed in the chicest fashions and totally gorgeous, of course.

  Losing sight of Wyatt momentarily, Keeli returned her attention to potential buyers. Wells Street Art Festival, early in the Chicago Art Festival season, tended to be a good forecaster of sales for Keeli’s entire season. A slow day did not bode well. The scene was festive with steadily swelling crowds, but she longed to move her merchandise more quickly.

  Over four months had passed since that day in the elevator. Four and a half months during which Keeli worked day and night, seven days a week. She focused all her energy on creating her designs and shyly marketing herself at the boutiques she had identified as her best opportunities for success. She had given herself six months to get her business moving at a steady pace, but here she was, still limping along. It was a constant struggle to get her designs accepted at the boutiques where the right clientele shopped. She had the right resume and owners admired her collections, but they stopped short of agreeing to carry her work. The rejections were increasingly difficult to overcome even as Keeli lost sleep watching her bank balance dwindle.

  Art fairs, like this one, were barely covering her expenses and tight finances were preventing her from upgrading the quality of materials for her jewelry. Her use of lower quality gems and metals prevented her from breaking into the high-end boutiques business where they wanted to sell unique items made with high-quality metals and precious stones. Her designs were creative and unique, but with low-end materials, Keeli could only charge low-end prices. Moreover, low-end prices meant low-end profits and less cash for new materials. It was a vicious cycle, but just one substantial contract to consign with an elite boutique could break it.

  Turning browsers into buyers had been a challenge all weekend, but now Keeli happily boxed a chunky bracelet and matching ring for a mother and daughter who had come by her booth to look earlier, left and later returned to buy. Two more sales like this and she would reach the quota she had set for this fair. Looking around for more opportunities, she spotted Wyatt again, only about 30 yards away.

  Wyatt attended almost every fair where Keeli showed. She noticed that he always showed up on Sunday afternoon, the last day of each show. He arrived for the last 2-3 hours, wandering up one side of the street, then down the other, giving her a chance to see him maneuver through the crowds for a while. He stopped often to talk to painters, sculptors and photographers. They all seemed to know him. She enjoyed watching them defer to him and although she never saw him make a purchase, the artists always gave him plenty of time and attention.

  Up until now though, he had not stopped at her booth. She resigned herself that today would be no different. Discouraged, she returned to hide behind her book in the dark back corner of the booth. From here, she could avoid the rejection of attendees who failed to stop at her tent and watch Wyatt’s every move without being detected.

  Keeli watched him, and watched everyone else watch him too. With his height and commanding presence, heads turned when he passed by. He was hard to miss but Keeli suspected many people recognized him from the press while the rest were drawn to his handsome face. He had a movie star quality with his chiseled features and loose-limbed stride. In addition, he had that assuredness that comes from having wealth all his life. He looked like a man who had it all, and knew he had it all. His rich, easy laugh diffused any sense of entitlement that might have been off-putting, drawing people to him. He combined approachable with untouchable perfectly.

  Most Sundays Keeli only guessed what he was thinking behind his dark sunglasses, but today he had them tucked into the opening of his shirt. She was able to get a glimpse of his gray-blue eyes and those tiny laugh lines fanning out at their corners. He stood straight and tall and it was almost as if he looked straight at her, blue eyes locking with green. She even imagined a quick look of shocked recognition on his face before remembering she was hidden in the shadows. Besides, he was busy whispering in the ear of his date, their heads touching each other. The cold reality of her insignificance returned to Keeli like an icy shower.

  He cannot remember me from the elevator. It has been months and months since I last saw him. While he made an indelible impression on me, face facts Keeli, you have seen for yourself how all these gorgeous women surround him. You will never, ever compete with them.

  As if driving home their differences, Wyatt and his date really stood out in the crowd. They looked stunning,
cool and well dressed compared to the crowd decked out in cut-offs and flip-flops. His clothes looked expensive - not that Keeli was an expert. The woman looked high fashion, but less fussy than the women he usually brought to these fairs.

  Keeli watched the sun kiss the top of Wyatt’s head, watched it pick up red and blonde hues as he moved from sun to shade to sun. He had a ready smile and it was mesmerizing. She was intrigued by him and grateful to be sheltered in the corner where she could stare openly. He was a beautiful man full of vitality. He looked about 30 but Keeli knew from Googling him that he was 34. He had an air about him but he also possessed a boyish charm and an easy, athletic grace. Women followed him with their eyes as he walked past in jeans that fit like a glove - first to see his arresting face, then to admire his tight butt.

  Keeli kept her eyes on him as he drew closer, stopping to admire Clarice’s sculptures. Keeli was holding her breath staring into the sunlight from the shadow of her corner, hearing him exchange polite greetings with Clarice. She had been scrutinizing him for at least six or seven art fairs now and even came close to saying something once or twice when he passed her display. Never once had he made eye contact or noticed her. He certainly had not indicated that he recognized her.

  Once or twice he had inspected her stock of earrings, necklaces and whatever was in easy reach of the tent entrance, slowing down but never stopping to venture inside. Now, to her complete dismay, he was finally actually entering her booth but with a gorgeous woman clinging to him. At least she was a different woman than last time. So far, none of the beauties had earned a second invite.

  Keeli’s heart fluttered while she conjured various tortures to separate Wyatt from this woman. Trying to get her emotions in check, she rehearsed a basic exchange in her mind. She imagined them sharing witty repartee reminiscent of “Sex and the City”, just before he purchased her most expensive piece and asked her on a date. She was shaken from her lovely daydream by a smooth, deep voice.

  OMG it’s him! He is actually standing in my booth talking to me. Get your act together, idiot.

  “Excuse me, can you help us please?” She loved the sound of his voice, low and mellow with no evidence of the local, Chicago twang. “We would like to see that ring please.” He pointed to one of her favorite pieces.

  What is he saying? Wow, he is so damn hot! Calm down Keeli and focus.

  “Of course, I would be delighted.” She jumped up, patted her frizzing hair into place and cursed the humidity. She turned away briefly to reach for her display keys while she surreptitiously wiped an annoying bead of sweat from her upper lip. She leaped forward to open the case, hoping the crazed look she was feeling didn’t translate into a crazed smile. Placing the ring on the black velvet background to show it to best advantage she offered, “This is a new design this season, South Sea pearls in 18 karat yellow gold.”

  “Ooh babe, it is beautiful, isn’t it?” the willowy blonde on his arm batted her eyelashes and looked up at him with a simper.

  Did women really do that anymore? I guess this one did.

  Wyatt didn’t seem to notice, or he didn’t care, instead studying the workmanship of the ring, the quality of the gold, the styling of the comfort fit, the size of the three pearls nestled against each other so they appeared to float in their setting.

  “Try it on,” he commanded her. ”How much is it?”

  “$985.” Keeli made up the amount on the spot, the highest she felt she could charge for the piece, prepared to come down a bit before selling. She hated talking price, never knowing if people would think something was too expensive, or even worse, too cheap. “This is a very good price for a piece of this quality. That is 18 karat gold and two carats of very high quality pearls.” She babbled, even though she knew that remaining silent at this point and letting the merchandise sell itself was the more successful tactic. With an effort, she clamped her lips shut tightly, using the moment to stare openly at this virile man.

  The price didn’t faze either of them. “Of course, it is obviously well made.” He was checking out her workmanship carefully when he looked up from the ring to stare right into her eyes. He was standing very close and she was stunned by the proximity and the reality of him. “Are you the artist?”

  “That obvious?” she quipped with a just a hint of sass, her heart pounding uncontrollably. Since she stood under a banner that filled the entire tent opening reading “Keeli Larsen Designs” it seemed too obvious. He flashed her his devastating smile and Keeli stepped back to give herself a bit of breathing room. She covered the moment well. “I will give you two some time to think about it.”

  While he and the blonde discussed the merits of the ring, Keeli studied Wyatt at close range. She was better able to see his intentional five-o’clock shadow, the length of his eyelashes, and the slash of straight brows over blue eyes cooled with gray. His hair curled at his neck. It pleased Keeli to realize that the summer heat defeated him just as she was. Now, with his head bent over her displays, she longed to finger the curls and waves.

  Keeli’s eye moved down to the strength of his neck and collarbone; they excited her somehow. She was staring at the open neckline of his shirt when he looked up from the ring to catch her staring. A flush of heat flooded her body, and then rose to her face in a telltale blush.

  While Keeli’s face flamed a heinous shade of red, the lovely blonde displayed the ring on her equally lovely, manicured hand. She turned it this way and that, stretching out her long arm to see it from afar, wiggling it in front of the small mirror on the display case. It looked fabulous on her. Keeli hid her work-roughened hands behind her back.

  “I want it,” she stated decisively, more to herself than either Keeli or Wyatt. Wow, this was a great sale, and a quick one too. Keeli was thrilled, except that her perfect man was about to purchase one of her favorite pieces for another woman: a beautiful woman, with sleek frizz-less hair and long elegant fingers draped over the arm of her dream man. A sleek cat of a woman batting her eyelashes and calling him “babe” while Keeli stood there a red-faced, sweating, mop-top.

  Keeli swallowed down her growing jealousy and focused on the potential sale. Gratifyingly, Keeli watched as the blonde reached for her own wallet. Oh excellent, she intended to buy the ring for herself. Keeli‘s heart soared.

  “I’ll buy it for you, Missy. After all, I do owe you a birthday present.”

  No, no, no, no, no. Keeli’s heart sank.

  “Oh Wyatt,” the woman responded, resting her manicured fingers on his arm as if she was incapable of standing on her own two feet. “That is too generous and it’s completely unnecessary,” hesitating in an artful manner. “…But of course I will let you!”

  She was so damned pleased with herself, sending a smug, girl-to-girl smile Keeli’s way. Keeli oozed jealousy, not sisterly camaraderie. Couldn’t Wyatt see that this was her damn plan all along?

  Wyatt rolled his eyes at Keeli and she realized that he fully understood what just happened. A man with this many women hanging on him must know when he is being manipulated. More important, Wyatt just shared a private moment with her, an intimate look of understanding.

  The man was devastating. She cannot remember ever being so attracted to a man. She was having a mad cannot resist moment, meeting Wyatt smile for radiant smile. Keeli bent over her smart phone to swipe his credit card, but not before catching the sudden look of interest that flared in his eyes.

  Keeli had him sign a receipt then efficiently wrapped the ring in a small box, despite sweaty palms and a thumping chest. She made sure that a business card containing her email and phone number was included. Just in case.

  Keeli handed him the package and said a sincere thank you. Before she could say more the elegant woman pulled on Wyatt’s arm and they were gone. She would have been content to stand there and look at him for hours but the entire transaction took less than ten minutes.

  Head in a cloud, Keeli headed back to her director’s chair, happy about her much-needed sale and
frustrated that their time together was so short and so business-like.

  “Ooh, girl,” Clarice tracked her down in the corner, ”that is one fine piece of ass.”

  “Wyatt Lyons Howe, IV. Wyatt Lyons Howe, IV was just talking to me.”

  “Earth to Keeli,” Clarice waved her hand in front of Keeli’s glazed stare. “I hope you charged him a whole lot for that ring, cause with a name like that he sure can afford it.” Her sweat-shiny face split into a grin. “But I know you didn’t, did you? And now I fear you will be useless the rest of the day.”

  “Huh? Oh, Clarice, you know I would never do that! Well, to tell the truth,” Keeli admitted, scuffing the ground with the toe of her comfy Keds, “I was too busy staring into those eyes of his to even think of it.” The two women went off into peals of laughter.

  “Those eyes?” Clarice was struggling to stifle a giggle. “You were looking at his eyes when you could have been checking out that body? Did you see those pecs? And that fine ass? That is a good lookin’ specimen.” Clarice had raised her voice in her enthusiasm. Keeli shushed her in embarrassment, returned to her booth all serious and professional, and then was overcome with laughter again.

  “As if I could miss them,” Keeli hollered through the tent flaps. She heard Clarice’s whoops of laughter in response.

  Keeli hoped that this sale, and seeing Wyatt, portended a change of luck for what remained of the day. She picked up Shakespeare’s “The Tempest” knowing that she had made several small sales as well as the ring today. She calculated that one large sale during what remained of this afternoon would do it.

  Keeli should have been able to concentrate on her book and her clients now that she knew she could stop watching for Wyatt the rest of the day, but instead she rehashed every minute of their conversation, recognizing with resignation that she would need to get him out of her fantasies. The transaction had been nothing more than business. She had enjoyed his megawatt smile, but it was just polite. He was with another woman, buying a ring for her, no less.