Bedazzled (The Beguiling Bachelors Book 1) Page 5

  “Man, I would kill to be a fly on the wall for that conversation,” Randall jibed.

  “Do not get snarky,” Wyatt warned, taking a deep, satisfying drink of a fine single-malt. To the outside world, he appeared calm but his friends watched him shred his cocktail napkin and knew how tense he really was.

  They were all privy to the secret Wyatt had kept from family and others for months. He was finalizing negotiations with investors so that he could start the tech company he had dreamed of since college and the deadline to take the leap was fast approaching.

  He hissed at them now to keep their voices down so it would stay secret a little longer. Wyatt had been struggling as things moved along. Go forward or can the whole idea. In three generations, no Lyons or Howe had dared to do anything but work for Lyons Howe, each eldest son trained to take over the business and maintain the family legacy. It was critical for a smooth transition when his father stepped down, and an expectation of both family and the business community.

  In the early 1900’s, Wyatt Howe married Meg Lyons and started buying real estate in a rapidly sprawling Chicago. What started as a home for the newlyweds and a place nearby for their children grew until he owned half the apartment buildings in their north neighborhood. Then he made purchases along the lakefront and soon owned more real estate than any individual in the city.

  As the city grew, Wyatt’s great-grandfather continued growing the business, branching into commercial real estate. He groomed his son, who groomed his son, who trained and educated Wyatt to expand Lyons Howe. The company was flourishing, and the family was now the largest real estate development company in the Midwest, major holders from Philadelphia to Denver.

  Along the way to success, they became noted philanthropists and even more noted power brokers. The family had high expectations for Wyatt to continue the tradition. From the moment he was born, his father had groomed him for this role with the right education, exposure and training. His mother had supported her husband by introducing their son to the right families and the right social circles. In their minds, he was just months away from taking over the helm.

  Of course, they had never once asked Wyatt if this was what he wanted, and he had certainly never spoken up as a boy to say he might want to do something else with his life. In fact, he had made it all the way to last year without questioning his role, accepting loyally his responsibility to his family.

  However, at a conference last summer he met a venture capitalist that planted a seed that had been growing steadily. Over drinks, Wyatt had casually mentioned his idea for a real estate application, to help sell, price and appraise properties. He had visualized a tool for his work force but the investment expert saw far more. He saw a tool for the industry and suggested Wyatt pursue it.

  Since that day Wyatt had been unable to get the idea out of his head, scribbling numbers on note pads, building spreadsheets and quickly coming to realize that he had the makings a strong new company. But loyalty, family loyalty, was everything so for a year he had refused to consider the possibilities. Two months ago, all that changed.

  A typical family spat over Sunday dinner had escalated just enough for Regan, Wyatt’s brilliant younger sister, to let her resentment show. The truth was that Regan was in love with the business and wanted desperately to run it. Just three years younger than Wyatt, she too had been raised on the family business. She had impeccable Cornell undergrad and Harvard business school credentials and real estate in her blood.

  That Sunday evening it also became apparent that she had a chip on her shoulder the size of Texas. Who could blame her? It was the 21st century so the notion that a business should pass to the eldest son was, in her opinion and Wyatt’s, antiquated and ludicrous. This was not the bloody British nobility; primogenitor should not apply.

  Regan wanted the reins and Wyatt wanted out. He liked real estate well enough and certainly appreciated and enjoyed the spoils of the highly successful Lyons Howe empire, but he wanted to try his hand at technology. Computers, software, analytics and big data fascinated him. He believed he could successfully run this new venture, a company to design mobile business applications. He had spoken with Google already about capturing personalized data, and IBM about analytics. They were interested. Now, if he could raise the venture capital, he had research showing the market was strong and the competition was not.

  He had all the plans in place, assuming he received the additional funding. He had staff ready to join him, some of it sitting around this table. He had equipment ready for purchase and a perfect location in a Lyons Howe property. He had done everything necessary to take the plunge.

  More than anything, Wyatt was mentally prepared, desperate to get out from under the family name and prove himself on his own terms. He was actually psyched to take the risk and let the chips fall where they may. He had been trying to excel in sports, in school, in business, in the community, trying to find a place to stand out on his own, but always his name followed him, or preceded him, opening doors so that he could never be sure he deserved credit for his accomplishments. He knew others would kill to change places with him, would never understand the burden that came with being a Howe. He had laid all the groundwork and now he was prepared to find out if he could make it without the Howe family behind him.

  What he was not prepared for was the discussion he would have first with his father, then the rest of his family, then the press. He was not sure how the business community would respond, but he knew his family would not respond well at all.

  That’s an understatement if ever I heard one.

  “You ready to rock the old boat?” Randall queried now, breaking into Wyatt’s reverie.

  “Regan is definitely in a great position to take over. She would be fantastic and she is chomping at the bit for God’s sake. Let her have it Wyatt, cause once she makes a few more million, I intend to marry her,” Tyler laughed but Wyatt suddenly realized he might mean it.

  Wyatt had never considered Tyler as a potential brother-in-law, but now he wondered why not. Tyler was a highly successful attorney, had enough money and prestige that he could never be considered a fortune hunter, and he and Regan had laughed and played together since childhood. Wyatt remembered now that Tyler had always been a little protective of her too. Their families were well acquainted and got along. Plus, they would have beautiful babies. Regan’s willowy, pale beauty would be a perfect combination with Tyler’s height and blond, boyish good looks. Wyatt needed to think about more than his problems, maybe help that romance along.

  “Have you told her yet cause I know you have not told your father? I didn’t hear the earth shake and you are not sporting major bruises.” Alex socked Wyatt lightly on the arm, bringing Wyatt back to the conversation at hand.

  The men were teasing Wyatt, but only in a supportive way. They all came from old, moneyed families with high expectations and they empathized with Wyatt now. There was rarely a chance to pick on the golden boy, other than missing an easy shot on the tennis court, and Alex was savoring the moment.

  “Very funny, AJ. You know I am not saying anything until I know I have the investors locked in. After all, why rock the boat unnecessarily?”

  “Yeah, cause that boat is gonna’ rock big time,” Randall rolled his eyes for emphasis. “Daddy will not be happy. Regan, dream on, Tiger. She has you totally whipped,” he added in Tyler’s direction.

  “Mama will be even less happy,” Tyler ignored Randall’s dig. “No wife, no grandchildren, no legacy. What a disappointment you’re turning out to be, Ivy,” he said in his best Samantha Howe voice. He actually did a pretty good imitation and Wyatt visibly cringed.

  “Oh yes, Ivy, dear,” Alex did a weaker imitation. “When are you going to marry Sloane and make Mama happy?” After a moment’s hesitation, Tyler continued in his own voice. “Or is there a new woman in the picture now? I saw Sloane and she said you were avoiding her, and Missy tells me you have stopped haunting photo shoots for the latest models. What are yo
u up to?”

  Ignoring the question Wyatt reminded the men to stop calling him ‘Ivy’, a nickname that he could not shake, a reminder that he was the fourth Wyatt Howe, Wyatt Howe ‘I V’. It was horrible enough within the family, but his friends knew how he felt; they did it just to annoy him. It worked. At least no one called him ‘Junior’ which would have been so much worse, but ‘Ivy’ represented that family dependence Wyatt wanted to shake.

  Wyatt moved smoothly into safer subjects for a short while. The men discussed the Cubs (already depressing), Bulls (finishing another losing season) and Blackhawks (thank God Chicago had one winning team). Then they speculated how badly the Bears would break their hearts come fall and how their favorites would fair at Wimbledon. The conversation shifted to business, the markets and how work was going for each. They covered real estate, Options, banking (Randall's purview) and consulting (AJ’s career of choice). They rehashed their spring trip to Aspen, reminiscing about the skiing and the beautiful babes.

  Wyatt took a few minutes to remind them of the Howe Museum benefit coming up later in the month, chiding them to donate copious amounts and giving them a preview of the items in the silent auction. A sailing trip sounded enticing and they strategized to win it. Then he made the mistake of asking them who their dates would be. His date question brought his thoughts right back to Keeli, a topic he had successfully avoided to this point.

  Wyatt unconsciously shredded another napkin. Three sets of eyes watched his hands before searching his face for clues. His knee, bouncing under the table, set the high top vibrating. Wyatt did a scan of the room, checking out the women who poured into the bar and encroached. They were easily recognizable. Every woman under 40 wanted a chance with the wealthy, handsome and eligible bachelors.

  “So the Friday night meat market begins,“ Wyatt observed sadly. “Maybe it is just me, but these women look a little too hard for my taste.”

  “Could that be because you have a certain someone else on your mind, and no one here can compare?” Alex joked, but then he watched Wyatt take a deep breath and shred another napkin. The waitress removed the mess and left a small stack of fresh napkins. The tabletop continued to vibrate.

  “OK, what is going on, Wyatt?” Alex focused his laser stare on Wyatt. His companions stared at Wyatt’s face, aware that something was going on with Wyatt besides work.

  As Wyatt leaned in to answer, the others lost interest in the women surrounding them. They did look a little hard - over dressed, over made-up. After years in the city and in the bar, the men easily recognized women fresh from the blowout salon with barely dry nails itching to sink into them. Despite all the effort, they had little interest in the women. Instead, they focused all their attention on Wyatt.

  “Do tell, Bro,” Tyler demanded.

  “And don’t leave out any details,” Randall added with a leer, wiggling his thick eyebrows over his dark brown eyes, mimicking Groucho.

  Wyatt flashed Randall an impatient smile then thought about that almost-kiss at the Cultural Center. Keeli had been wet and bedraggled but she looked smokin’-hot to him, her hair got away from her and billowed around her head like a red halo, her wet blouse clinging to her lush body. While he was honestly fascinated watching emotions move across her face and watching her expressive eyes change from green to blue, he had mostly struggled to keep his eyes from drifting down to her deep, inviting cleavage. He was pretty proud of his success.

  Remembering the tip of her tongue darting out just before he would have kissed her, Wyatt felt his body stir. Damn that stupid phone call. He shook away the memories before he was out of control.

  His companions were mesmerized, watching the change of emotions on his face - interest, pleasure, and lust. Something major had happened, and they intended to find out what.

  “I met her at a couple of art fairs. Actually, I spotted her at a fair more than a year ago. She is a jewelry designer. Good one too. I bought one of her pieces for Missy a few weeks ago.”

  “Oh no, don’t stop there,” Tyler demanded when Wyatt hesitated. “What does she look like?”

  “Red hair, pretty face, big boobs, long legs,” Wyatt added as if in a trance. “And an incredible mouth - all pouty - and these exotic green and blue eyes. She’s perfect. Mix of sweet and hot.”

  “Green AND blue?” Tyler seemed skeptical.

  “Perfect?” Alex queried.

  Simultaneously Randall questioned “And what has she been doing with that mouth?”

  “You are a pig.” Wyatt was chuckling. “Get your head out of the gutter. I barely know her.”

  “Never stopped you before,” Randall tossed back.

  “I noticed her last year and at every fair this year,” Wyatt continued. “She reads Shakespeare, or Hemingway, or Dickens. Weird shit, but she is sarcastic and funny and unbelievably hot.”

  “That’s it?” Randall sounded disappointed. “We don’t care what she reads, dammit. Details, man, details”

  “There are no details. I haven’t even asked her out. Just ran into her at these fairs, oh, and I bought her a coffee. I haven’t even called her since.”

  “Why not, Ivy? You obviously have it bad,” Alex cut to the chase.

  “Stop calling me that.” Wyatt sounded a bit sharper than intended. “Please.”

  “That’s it?” Randall sounded churlish and disappointed. “What aren’t you telling us, Wyatt?”

  Tyler continued, “Yeah Wyatt, you see great figures and pretty faces all the time. They throw themselves at you everywhere. C’mon buddy, what makes this one so special?“

  He had to admit Tyler was right. It was not arrogant to acknowledge that Wyatt was a catch. Women pursued him, subtly and openly. He was heir to a financial powerhouse, 34 years old, well educated, engaging, interesting, easy on the eyes and single. He was not even divorced with baggage. He was really, truly single. Even at his most modest, Wyatt knew he could have almost any woman he wanted, and usually did.

  Tyler hesitated, leaning in a bit closer, then lowered his voice and added reluctantly, “What about Sloane?”

  “I know, I know,” Wyatt sounded exasperated. “I know everyone thinks I am just getting in a few more girls before I marry Sloane, and maybe I am. But this girl feels different –unaffected - you know? She is just…something. She just does something to me, you know. It feels like she is with me, not a Howe. Just me.”

  “You know guys, it is easy to have women whenever we want them. We have them to take home to mama or ones we could never take home. We all know that most of time we don’t care which one they are. But the truth is, I am sick of the posers and users who pretend there is a budding romance, when it is all just a game.” Wyatt sounded tired and dejected.

  “I want to be with someone who cares about my wants, my dreams. I do not want to just be a credit card, a name and a wedding ring. I want something different now.”

  “Yeah, but you have Sloane. She loves you. She wants to marry you.”

  “She expects to marry you, man,” Alex, always logical, said it like it was.

  “What makes you think this girl would be any different? She is an artist Ivy, she is probably looking for money way more than those models you date.“

  “Here’s the thing, Tyler,“ he responded, “I have had my eye on Keeli for months now. Of course, you would say she is a user. Yeah, she wears cheap clothes, no designer shit. However, she never tried to chat me up or get my attention. Before last week, she barely looked me in the eye. I think she wants to but she would never have pursued it. In a world of brazen women, she is rather modest.”

  “OK, you win,“ Randall sounded exasperated. “Call the girl, go to her next art fair, just take her out, sleep with her, and get her out of your system. Can I play with Sloane In the meantime?”

  “Now, why didn’t I think of that?” Wyatt grinned to the guys but he knew this girl was different.

  I know she is. She has to be.

  The men laughed at Wyatt’s comment and went back to
checking out the women. Wyatt made small talk but after a respectable amount of time, he stood to leave.

  “I’m outta here, guys,” he said to no one in particular, waving off the women long enough to say good night to his friends.

  Next to Keeli, everyone else seemed a poor substitute.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Here she sat, another Sunday afternoon, another art fair. It was well past two o’clock and there was no sign of him yet. Keeli had been anticipating Wyatt’s arrival for two straight days although she had never seen him at a fair before a Sunday. As the afternoon grew long, she became more nervous, fidgeting with her displays and smoothing her hair repeatedly, not that she could tame the wild curls.

  He was just being nice cause it was a cold, wet day. Get over yourself, girl. If he shows, you know he will have some bimbo with him. It’s not like he tried to call, text, or anything. So, he might have attempted to kiss you. It didn’t happen. And an ‘almost’ may have meant everything to you, but obviously, it was insignificant to him. He was doing what he’s famous for, seizing the moment with some woman. This time it just happened to be you. Keep it in perspective.

  She had dressed with more care than usual, in one of her newer bright-colored sundresses, hoping for a “Wyatt sighting”, even though she was trying not to think about him. She was working diligently to forget about him, to stay rational and cool, and it helped that she was slammed with work.

  The Gold Coast art fair was Keeli’s best opportunity since it attracted a crowd of wealthy Chicagoans and tourists who historically bought more upscale pieces than buyers at other fairs.

  The lakeshore event was already lucky for Keeli as well as most of the artists around her. Saturday was a long day, but the good weather, the location and reputation of the fair helped Keeli sell more than usual, including some big-ticket items. She was showing her new designs and they were selling well, giving Keeli the validation she needed.

  She could easily pay July’s rent now, unlike last month when she worried for two weeks, just making the due date. Not as frantic over money, she watched the items in the display dwindle with mixed emotions. It gave her added breathing room to stay afloat, and for that she was grateful. It also provided ready cash to purchase badly needed supplies. She would have to order right away to have adequate inventory for the Milwaukee and Port Clinton fairs coming next.