The American Lover (4 page)

John shot me a pointed look as he raised his eyebrows, clearly trying to impress on me how important this guy was. “So, Mr. Mackenzie, let me introduce Mrs. Jackson to you.  As I explained, she’s our top expert for all the systems you need to access, so I’m passing you over into her very capable hands.”

“Pleased to meet you, Mr. Mackenzie,” I said formally, as I extended my hand, determined to give a professional impression. A big, warm, strong hand gripped mine firmly.  At least he had a proper handshake, not a horrid limp excuse for one.

“Likewise, Mrs. Jackson.”

Dear lord, that voice, that accent. Deep and rich and laced with a whisky burr. I couldn’t help thinking the guy was wasted in banking, because he really ought to be doing voiceovers for a living.

“Please, just call me Jack.”
I’m not really a proper ‘Mrs.’ am I? Not when I don't have my Mr. anymore.

“Then it’s Caleb.” He smiled back, showing off his perfect straight white teeth. Of course. Americans don't do crooked teeth.

“I’ve just been explaining to Caleb that it’s a requirement of our stringent UK data protection laws that he must be accompanied by you at all times whilst he is in the building, because he unfortunately doesn't have the necessary security clearance to access any of the highly confidential data. I’ve freed up the glass-bowl for you to work in, so that you can safely discuss the IRS data requirements in total privacy without being disturbed.”

I think John was worried he was being tested on all our security protocols, so he was going for the full-on formal approach, which I suppose I understood under the circumstances. But that meant I was going to have to babysit this Caleb guy the entire time, every single second he was in the building.

The glass-bowl was a small glass walled office within the main open-plan office.  It was not exactly spacious and would mean working in
very
close proximity with Mr. Caleb Mackenzie. Well, I could handle it.   I mean, he was absolutely not my type in any way, in that he was nothing like my jeans-and-T-shirt Drew had been, but even I could appreciate male beauty when I saw it.  And there was no harm in looking, just the same as you’d look at pictures of hot guys in a magazine, right?

“Sorry about this, but it seems you Brits have just as many draconian rules as we do. And normally, I’d have been better prepared for this assignment, but I was only drafted in at the last minute. So, er… Jack, you’ll have to treat me gently while I get up to speed,” Caleb apologised.

From his slightly acerbic tone, I quickly surmised that he was less than thrilled to be here.  Grey, drizzly, chilly London in February, instead of his usual California sunshine.  I had some sympathy for him.

“Come on then, I’ll give you a quick tour so you can get your bearings,” I indicated the door, as we stood up to leave, taking a deep breath as I resigned myself to getting on with the task in hand.

“
L
ast Jack I knew was a two hundred and fifty pound football player at college,” I commented as I leaned back in my chair. “I see your security pass gives your first name as Faith.  Nice name, so how come you don't you use it?”

The morning had passed smoothly and quickly, much to my surprise.

First off, Faith showed me around so I could familiarize myself with the place, then she fixed me up with a cup of strong black coffee when she noticed me stifling a yawn, an inevitable consequence of jet lag. After that, she sat us down to start working together in the small office they called the glass-bowl, and so far I had to admit I was pretty impressed with Faith Jackson.

She efficiently called up the systems we needed to access the required information, and had effortlessly reorganized the data into an easy to use format within a couple of minutes. It was obvious that Faith knew all the Royal London systems inside out, and at this rate, I’d easily be getting the task done in a couple of days, rather than the week that had been allocated, so I’d have plenty of time to carry out the more covert aspects of my assignment.  Any initial doubts I'd had about her capabilities had quickly vanished, so my only problem now was that no way could I think of her as ‘Jack’. I’d been expecting a big burly guy to walk into John’s office, but this girl, who looked more like a little pixie or fairy, had turned up instead.

“I just prefer Jack, that’s all,” she replied in her clipped English accent. She had a pleasant melodic voice, and if I'd heard her on the phone I would have pictured her differently. Older, maybe.

I was making polite conversation, but I was also curious. I’d been informed I’d be working with John Beal, and as I always do my homework, I’d gotten some background info on him once I knew I couldn’t get out of this London assignment.  So I’d been taken by surprise when he’d straight away handed me over to one of his subordinates, insisting she was the best person for the job, meaning I’d been caught on the back foot, ill prepared and not very well informed about exactly who I was dealing with, a position I hated landing in. 

For now, I had to be satisfied with what I could see for myself.

Faith was small and petite, with a delicate elfin face, along with a cute little button nose.  Her fair hair was the color of shiny wheat, and she wore it carelessly scraped back into a messy half pony tail, half bun kind of affair. Big heavy framed glasses masked her eyes. Not a scrap of makeup, natural nails.

She was clean and tidy, but hardly what you’d call groomed.

Not like my ex-wife, who used to sleep in full makeup, because God forbid I should ever see her in her natural state
. 

And I had no real idea what Faith’s figure was like, because she was wearing hideously unflattering baggy black slacks, and an equally hideous unflattering baggy white blouse.  The only slightly frivolous thing about her appearance were the flat black pumps she was wearing, which had little polka dot bows on them.

Faith certainly didn't go in for small talk and was in fact quite brusque, whereas since I’d gotten myself back into shape, I was more used to the ladies coming over all flirty and smiley with me.  My brothers and I all inherited the Mackenzie looks from our dad, which tended to have that effect on ladies, especially in the UK, where the ladies told me they found my American accent sexy.  But for once, my looks or accent didn't seem to be having any effect on Faith, which was kind of refreshing to be honest.

“Shame.  Faith’s a real pretty name,” I smiled at her. She shot me an odd look, but said no more.

“I’m afraid John hasn’t really filled me in about exactly what it is you require,” she’d admitted when we first got down to work. She tried her best to cover up the resentment in her tone, but I still caught it, and I got where she was coming from.

I’d already figured out that her boss was a dick who knew jack squat, and I surmised she’d had this job dumped on her, just as I had.

When Roz D’Souza had been rushed to hospital with appendicitis, the chief executive, Bob Tyler, decided this provided a perfect excuse for me to go over to the UK instead.  He was impatient to give the green light for our plans to shut down the London office, just as soon as it was realistically feasible. Bob was anxious to show some cost savings at the next board meeting, and he’d been advised that the London systems upgrades to bring them into line with the rest of the American Western Bank Corporation were nearing completion ahead of schedule.

If this were the case, he’d be able to give a positive spin to the budget, as once the systems merger had been fully implemented, everything could be administered directly from head office, and the expensive London outpost could finally be shut down, as had been the intention all along.

However, we were very aware that most of the traditional, affluent Royal London customers were highly resistant to change, and weren’t very happy with the idea of their beloved British bank being run by a bunch of Yanks.  That was why we would be keeping the ‘Royal London’ brand name as a front, figuring that way, the customers would hardly be aware of the change over, especially as we were bending over backwards to ensure things would keep running smoothly, so they would not be inconvenienced in any way. 

“We have to keep news of the impending London closure under wraps for now, so we’ll use the old ‘back to the floor’ cover story as the reason we’re sending you over, Caleb. Executives needing to keep their finger on the pulse, that kind of crap.  You know the score, and you could complete those IRS data reports Roz was going to do in your sleep.  So this will be the same kind of exercise as the one you undertook with the Eastern Banking Corporation offices, when we shut down their New York offices after we took them over.”

All this may have been true, but I also knew it suited Bob to have me out of the way, so he could force through his latest round of cost cutting measures at the next board meeting.  I’d already made known my feelings, that although these cuts might look good on paper, I considered most of his proposals false economy in the long run.  But Bob wanted to make his mark, so he was determined to do something fairly drastic – never mind the long term implications.  He’d be long gone by then, another one kicked upstairs out of the way. I don't know why I was bothering to raise my concerns, when it was a foregone conclusion anyway.

So I thought
what the hell
. I’d always liked London, and seeing as I hadn’t been over for a while, why not take this all expenses paid trip? I’d not travelled much when I’d been married, as Cassie had always complained about me going away, but had never been interested in accompanying me.  Now that I was a free agent, I travelled whenever I got the chance, and as I knew the London office was soon to be shut down, I decided to grab the opportunity while I still could.

As I caught that tone of resentment in Faith’s voice, I decided to call her out on it. In my experience, things usually worked better if you established where you stood at the beginning of an assignment like this, and if I managed to establish a good rapport with her, it would be much easier to obtain the information I needed without being too obvious about it.

“You’re pretty pissed off about being landed with this project with me, aren’t you?” I commented, as I stretched my legs out and put hands behind my head.

Faith’s head shot up as she stared at me for a moment.

“Is it that obvious?” she sighed, as she took her glasses off and pinched the bridge of her nose. That’s when I got a proper good look at her eyes for the first time. I no longer wore glasses as I’d undergone corrective laser eye surgery, and now I thought it a shame that such lovely eyes were masked by glasses.

Large, soft denim-blue eyes, with a touch of gray. Very long, thick, dark eyelashes. Pretty eyes. Honest eyes. Sad eyes.
Why so sad?

“Yep. ‘Fraid so,” I smiled to reassure her I wasn’t offended she wasn’t being all false and sucking up to me by pretending this was her dream assignment. I liked her honesty, another fresh change.

“Just frustrated not to be finishing off something I’ve been working on for months, that's all. And anyway, who’d you upset in head office enough so they’d send you over from sunny California to cold, dreary England in February?” she shot back with a grin.  So she had a sense of humor anyhow, which I’d been warned might be lacking with some of the stiff upper lip Royal London Brits I’d be working with.

“Let’s just say it suited some folk to have me out of the way,” I commented as I quirked an eyebrow.

I’ve found it’s always best to use as much of the truth as possible when you’re trying to find things out discreetly, and my gut instinct told me Faith was a smart cookie. Her sad eyes told me she had some kind of history, some kind of baggage. Having been badly caught out in the past, now I tried to read people very carefully, to see how close I got to the truth. 

And this little lady intrigued me.

Her body language was telling me to stay away, not get too close, which was unusual.  Most women seemed to find me reasonably attractive these days, even though my wife hadn't.  My
ex
wife, that is. When I discovered her in bed with another man, I guess that meant she found him more attractive than me, even though he’d been barely more than a boy.

I hadn’t seen it coming. I’d been totally oblivious to what had been going on right under my nose. As far as I’d been concerned, I’d been in our marriage for the long haul, for life.  I’d thought Cassie was the love of my life, and I’d thought I was hers.

What she taught me was that all this love shit is just a myth, just romantic crap to disguise basic sexual lust. Looking back, lust rather than love was all it had boiled down to between me and Cassie, and it had soon worn off, which was why our sex life had dwindled away. But I’d still given my marriage my best shot, subscribing wholeheartedly to the concept of monogamy. I’d never once strayed, never been unfaithful the entire time we’d been married. I’d been sincere in making my wedding vows, only to have Cassie throw them right back in my face.

Luckily, we hadn’t gotten round to starting a family when it all fell apart, that was one small blessing anyhow. No kids’ lives to screw up.

At least the divorce left me free to concentrate on my career, instead of having to compromise because Cassie had never been prepared to relocate. To keep her happy, I’d turned down transfers that would have benefited my career, yet she’d still blamed my job as the reason for her being unfaithful.  Apparently, working flat out to provide stability and security for your beloved wife is a bad thing.

It’d really hit home when Cassie had accused me of letting myself go and becoming a slob.  It had happened so gradually over an extended period of time, that I hadn't realized just how out of shape I’d gotten, and I’d been horrified when I’d taken a long hard look at myself, not liking what I’d seen one little bit.  That had made me determined to rectify matters, and I’d worked hard to get my body back into shape.

All the effort had paid off, so now I wasn’t short of offers from the ladies.  And after being tied to Cassie for so many years, I felt reborn, happy to be a free spirit with no commitments. My change of circumstances meant that I could take whatever was offered if I so wished, knowing that I could happily fuck whoever I chose, with no guilty conscience to bother me.

I’d been kind of a studious dweeb as a teenager, and hadn't slept around that much before I got married, so I didn’t have much previous experience to draw on. But after the way Cassie had taunted me about not being able to satisfy her, I’d made it my mission to change all that, reading up and studying all the information I could get my hands on to improve my technique, before putting my research into practice. Now I took great satisfaction in ensuring the women I took to bed had no need to fake their orgasms, as Cassie claimed she always had.

But I never took up an offer if it turned out any of the women I met were married - not when I'd been on the other side of that fence. I had my own set of rules I played by, and
not
being the other guy was one of the most important.

Rule number one - my lady friends had to be free agents, just like me. Now it was second nature for me to check the signs - which was why I’d already noticed the wedding ring on Faith’s finger.

“What does your husband think about you coming out tonight for this event your boss has arranged? Does he mind, or would he rather you were at home cooking his dinner?” I teased her.

Her head shot up.

“No. It’s not an issue,” she stated, as a slight blush crept up her neck. Then she quickly changed the subject without further elaboration. “Could you clarify if you need full account details, or would a summarized version of the data be sufficient for your needs?”

Her English accent meant that she said ‘dayta’ rather than ‘data’, I noticed. Cute.

At lunchtime, as we made our way out of the office to head for the staff canteen, I couldn’t help noticing a very attractive, dark haired girl sitting at a desk nearby.  She was wearing a tight black pencil skirt, high heels and a blouse undone just enough to allow me a glimpse of some great tits.  She smiled as she licked her lips and battered her eyelashes, sending out unmistakable signs of interest. This was the response I’d gotten used to from women these days, but as rule number two was to avoid messy complications by not getting involved with anyone at work, I didn't act on it.