THIRST

by Deborah Bladon

  The peach colored polo shirt and long shorts he has on is typical Jared.

  His self-appointed mission to transform me into a slightly older version of him didn’t make it out of the starting gate.

  He pushes his brown hair back from his forehead. “Are you holding out on me, boss? That’s another pitch you’re considering, isn’t it?”

  “Handbags.” I lean back in my desk chair. “It’s a tough space to make a mark.”

  “Near impossible.” He pulls the wooden chair in the corner closer to my desk before he turns it around and sits, resting his forearms on the back. “It’s cutthroat. It would take a huge chunk of change to get any leverage at all.”

  His words confirm my thoughts. I knew as soon as Dexie started her pitch yesterday that she was facing an uphill battle.

  The market is crowded. Trying to get a foot in the door won’t be easy.

  “What do the numbers look like?” He cranes his head to get a better look at the paper in front of me.

  I pick it up and hand it to him. There are no secrets between Jared and me. I trust him to tell me what he honestly thinks.

  His word is never the last, but I weigh his opinion with my own and make a decision based on all the data.

  He glances at the paper. “Dexie Walsh is the company’s name?”

  “And the owner’s name,” I confirm with a nod.

  “Cute.” He smiles. “It’s unique, catchy. I like it.”

  I like the woman it belongs to, but Jared doesn’t need to know that. I’ve never introduced a woman I’m interested in personally to him. I don’t foresee that changing.

  “Is this in your maybe pile?” He drops the document on my desk.

  “For now.” That’s the easy answer I give him. I have every intention of working out a deal with Dexie that will benefit both of us.

  He stands and drags the chair back to its spot near my office door. “I have one to add to that and three I suggest we pass on.”

  “Call the passes and wish them well.” I push to my feet. “We’ll go over the other one tomorrow.”

  “You’re taking off?” There’s no surprise in his tone. Jared’s well aware that I’m not the nine-to-five type.

  I round the desk and yank a gray suit coat from a hook on the rack near the doorway. “There’s someone I need to see.”

  ***

  “Is Ms. Walsh expecting you?” The woman behind the reception desk at Matiz Cosmetics gives me the once-over.

  “Yes,” I lie with a smile.

  “You said your name is Mr. Jones?” She blinks. “Is this a business matter?”

  “It’s Rocco Jones. Ms. Walsh will know what it’s concerning.”

  She hesitates, glancing at the computer screen in front of her. “I’ll call her line and see if she’s available.”

  She does just that, poking a few buttons on the phone on her desk before she speaks into the receiver. “There’s a Mr. Rocky Jones here to see you, Ms. Walsh.”

  “Rocco,” I correct her with a grin.

  She ignores that with a scowl.

  I glance down the long corridor, but the only movement is the leaf of a large potted plant being blown by the overhead air conditioning.

  “I’ll tell him,” she says and then hangs up the phone. Her attention shifts from it to me. “Ms. Walsh will be able to see you in ten minutes. If you’d like to wait, you can do so in the visitors’ lounge.”

  I look to the left, and then the right. “Where might that be?”

  She gestures behind me to a row of fabric-covered chairs that border the wall opposite her desk. “There.”

  She can call it whatever she likes. I take a seat in what is obviously a generic waiting area. The walls are painted a neutral tan. The carpeting on the floor is the same hue.

  From what I’ve seen so far, the marketing department of Matiz Cosmetics is boring as hell. It’s nothing like the woman I’m here to see.

  I’m curious to find out how the hell she ended up working here.

  Chapter 20

  Dexie

  My office doesn’t have the same view out the window as my apartment. Most people would consider the views from the Matiz Cosmetics Tower spectacular. I’m not one of them. I much prefer to glance through a plate of glass to see Rocco Jones in all his half-naked glory.

  The vision of Central Park and the tops of the sun-touched buildings beyond that I’m witness to each day is breathtaking in its own right, but it’s not what I wish I were staring at right now.

  What I want to be looking at is Rocco Jones handsome face, and apparently, that’s waiting for me in the visitors’ lounge.

  I stare at the late afternoon blue sky, debating whether to invite Rocco into my office or to the café across the street.

  Coffee is ridiculously expensive there because of the Fifth Avenue address, but that hasn’t deterred anyone who works in this building or the others that line this block.

  If the man wants to discuss my purse business, I’d prefer if that happened outside the confines of the Matiz offices.

  My co-workers all know that my dream is to own a brand that rivals that of the boutique on the corner. You can walk out of there with a handbag that costs as much as six months worth of my rent.

  I want the notoriety without the high price tag.

  The jarring sound of my cell phone ringing breaks through my thoughts. I fumble in my purse for it, yanking it out and swiping my finger over the screen before I bother to look down to see who is calling.

  Sophia calls me almost every afternoon when she hits the four o’clock lull.

  She needs that extra push to get her through to the end of the day. It’s either a candy bar or gossiping with me that helps her climb the hill to quitting time.

  “So you didn’t give in to temptation today?” I joke before she can say anything.

  “Actually...” a man’s voice on the other end of the call startles me. “I did give in to temptation. That’s the reason why I’m still sitting in the visitors’ lounge waiting to see you.”

  “Rocco?” I ask although I know it’s him. My body has never reacted this way to another man’s voice. Ever.

  My nipples have stiffened into tight points under my pink dress; my core aches.

  I slump into the chair behind my desk and close my eyes.

  The café it is.

  At least there, I can tame my desire and focus on business.

  “I’ve been waiting for close to an hour, Dexie.” He sighs, the sound more of a rumble than a breathless release. “I’ll wait forever, but I’d prefer not to.”

  I took an important call after Shona let me know he was here. I lost track of time. Daydreaming about his ripped abs after the call didn’t help.

  “I’ll be right out,” I say softly. “Wait right there.”

  There’s a low chuckle before he says anything. “I won’t move a muscle.”

  Muscle.

  My thoughts float back to this morning and how he looked in that tight white T-shirt.

  “See you soon,” I say in a too-high voice.

  “Soon,” he repeats back in a dangerously low tone.

  “Shit,” I mutter under my breath after I end the call. “Get it together, Dexie.”

  All the encouraging self-talk in the world isn’t going to help me. I have to go and face the man who may be instrumental in making all of my professional dreams come true, even though he’s the star of every one of my personal fantasies.

  ***

  I feel like I’m strutting a runway as I saunter down the narrow corridor that leads to the reception area.

  My office is to the right where the junior executives and up-and-comers all work. The wider corridor that leads to the left is where the senior marketing staff’s offices are.

  My promotion six months ago landed me a small office and the title of Marketing Specialist. Essentially, I’m straddling the line between newbie and junior manager.

  I watch Rocco as I take measured steps toward
where he’s sitting.

  His gaze is once again cast down to his phone, his fingers blazing a trail over the screen.

  I’m grateful that his attention is occupied.

  My nipples have yet to calm the hell down and the thin fabric of my wrap dress leaves little to the imagination.

  I’m less than three feet from him when his head pops up and his eyes take me in. He rakes me slowly from head-to-toe, his lips parting just ever so slightly.

  He’s on his feet by the time I’m standing in front of him.

  Nothing about him has changed since this morning other than the suit jacket that now covers his T-shirt and the start of a shadow of whiskers over his jaw.

  “Do you feel like getting a coffee?” I look up at his face as I ask the question, my voice as controlled as I can manage.

  He stares at me for a minute. “There’s a place across the street that sells a great cup. We can go there.”

  I nod as I turn to Shona. She’s doing her best to look busy behind the reception desk. “If Mr. Dirks calls, can you forward it to my cell, Shona?”

  She tosses me a smile. “Will do.”

  I take in a breath and point toward the bank of elevators. “I’m all yours.”

  That lures a devilish grin to Rocco’s mouth. “Lucky, lucky me.”

  Chapter 21

  Rocco

  Pink perfection.

  That’s what Dexie Walsh is.

  The dress she’s wearing was made for her body. It hugs her in all the right places, including her beautiful breasts.

  The neckline dips enough that I got a clear view of the top of her round tits as we took the short walk from her office building to this café.

  My café.

  I hold a sixty-six percent interest in this place.

  My cousin, Arlo Calvetti and his wife, Palla, own the other thirty-three percent. They’re the ones who are here at the crack of dawn each day, readying to serve the caffeinated needs of the people rushing to the businesses that border this street.

  Arlo approached me when his job as a senior buyer for a pharmaceutical company was cut four years ago. This storefront was home to a small investment firm at the time. They relocated to an office in one of the towers on Park Avenue.

  The dream for Arlo was a high-end café that only serves the finest blends of beans from around the world. I hopped on board with the understanding that this is a hands-off endeavor for me.

  I hold the bulk of the purse strings until they can buy me out.

  Palla on Fifth will be his family’s legacy.

  “It’s my treat,” Dexie announces as we near the barista counter. Her hand disappears into the large purple bag slung over her shoulder.

  Her hair moves with each dive of her hand. It’s loose and in waves. I watch her intently, noticing the small diamond piercing in her nose.

  I hadn’t seen that before. I’m not surprised. I could stare at her for hours on end, and discover something new with each blink of my eyes.

  The freckle that sits above her left brow was the focus of some of my attention this morning. Admittedly, her nipples stole the show.

  “I’ll get the coffee.” I take a step closer to the counter.

  She pushes to get in front of me. “How do you take your coffee?”

  I smile inwardly at her determination to pay. She’s independent. I like that. It’s refreshing in my world.

  I’m a generous man. I’ve used my wealth to help those around me. It’s unusual for someone else to pull out his or her wallet to pay for anything for me.

  “Hot,” I answer succinctly. “No cream or sugar.”

  She blinks up at me. “Hot?”

  “Extra, extra hot.” I glance at her full lips.

  “I’ll order it that way.” She turns to face the barista counter, shielding the blush on her face from my view.

  I stand aside as she orders and pays, noting that she likes two sugars and a splash of cream in her coffee.

  “The barista said someone will bring it to our table.” That pulls a small laugh from her. “I told them I could wait for it at the counter, but he insisted we sit.”

  I motion toward an unoccupied table near the entrance. “How’s that?”

  Her gaze circles the café. It’s packed, as usual. I’ve never dropped in to find it vacant, which I’m grateful for.

  “Sure.” She nods, brushing past me to make her way to one of the two wooden chairs next to the circular table.

  I wait until she sits before I lower myself onto the chair next to her with my back to the counter.

  She wrings her hands together in front of her. “I wasn’t expecting to see you this afternoon.”

  Of course she wasn’t. After our brief encounter on the sidewalk outside her building this morning, she put all of her focus on work.

  “Have you heard from Rhoda?”

  She runs her fingertips over her temple, her eyes closing briefly. “No, not yet.”

  I anticipated as much. Rhoda will take her time to gather an arsenal of hard numbers and facts to show Dexie. She’ll argue her case for a large chunk of equity and use the persuasive power of future profits to lure Dexie to sign something she’ll quickly regret.

  Rhoda has a good heart, but when it comes to a deal like this, she has a shrewd business sense.

  “I’m a better partner for you,” I say, rubbing my hand over my jaw.

  I don’t mince words because there’s no need to. I am the better partner. I’ll treat her fairly and I’ll make her work hard for the inevitable success she’ll achieve.

  “I would be remiss if I didn’t hear Rhoda out.” She smiles past me, her gaze darting over my shoulder. “There’s Palla. She runs this place.”

  I met Palla a decade ago when she walked into my grandmother’s restaurant on the arm of Arlo.

  I was having dinner with his father, my uncle, Robbie.

  I witnessed my uncle meeting the woman of his son’s dreams. Marti called it that night, telling Palla that she would be the newest member of the Calvetti clan within a year.

  They married eight months later.

  Palla is next to us with a cup of coffee in each hand before a word leaves my mouth.

  “I knew it was you, Rocco.” She puts one cup in front of me. “You’re the only person I know who orders their coffee extra, extra hot.”

  I move to stand, taking her in for a quick embrace. “How are you?”

  “Happy.” She pats her round belly. “Three more months.”

  “How do the other five feel about this one?” I dip my chin. “Have you told them?”

  Her gaze drops to Dexie before it settles back on my face. “I had to. Joey asked if I ate too many pancakes, so I had to tell them.”

  Joey is the oldest of her and Arlo’s brood. They’ve been blessed with two sets of twins, all boys and a golden-haired two-year-old princess named after Marti.

  “You look stunning today, Dex.” She reaches for Dexie’s hand. “So you two know each other?”

  “Palla!” A woman’s voice rises above the noise in the café. “Shipment’s here.”

  “I have to go.” She gives Dexie’s hand another squeeze before she pats my shoulder. “A woman’s work is never done.”

  I watch her walk away and then take my seat.

  “The last time I was in here, Palla was pregnant with her daughter.” Dexie sips her coffee. “I can’t believe she remembered my name.”

  “I can.” I lock eyes with her. “You’re unforgettable.”

  Chapter 22

  Dexie

  His words are inching us closer to a discussion about our window game of chance.

  There might have been a chance that I would catch a glimpse of his cock one night, but that ship has sailed. Game over.

  There’s no way that we can work together to build my business by day only to flash each other at the window by night.

  They don’t go hand-in-hand.

  “We were talking about Rhoda before Palla came over.�
� I divert with a sugary sweet smile.

  He takes another sip of his still very hot coffee, his eyes glued to mine. “You’re not going to partner with Rhoda.”

  “I’ll decide after I hear what you both have to offer.”

  The ghost of a grin that touches his mouth tells me he likes that answer. His words say otherwise. “Rhoda doesn’t have the same vision for your company that I do.”

  I sigh. “I don’t know what her vision is so I can’t rule it out.”

  He rakes a hand through his already messy hair. It just makes him hotter and I think he knows it.

  Men like him parade around the city leaving a string of broken hearts in their wake. He’s almost too good-looking if such a thing exists.

  My phone buzzes in my purse. I fish it out and look at the number on the screen. It’s Sophia.

  “Is that Mr. Dirks?” Rocco leans back in his chair. “Are you still on the clock?”

  I nod, realizing that he was paying very close attention to what I said to Shona before we left my office. “I should get back to work.”

  I don’t correct his assumption that the call is work-related. I do need to finish a few things before I can call it a day at Matiz, including touching base with Rio Dirks, the stylist I hired for an upcoming fragrance photo shoot.

  “Let’s meet for dinner later.” He moves to stand. “We’ll talk about what I’m prepared to offer you.”

  I’ll give him an A-plus for persistence. Rhoda is hovering right around a D at the moment since I haven’t heard a word from her.

  “Say around seven,” he goes on. “I know a great French place. That’s if you’re free, of course.”

  I can’t exactly lie and say I have plans. He can see straight into my apartment. He’s bound to notice me sitting on my sofa eating popcorn and watching a movie.

  My gaze drops to my phone again when it chimes. This time it’s a text message from my best friend.

  Sophia: Nicholas is in Boston tonight so come over so we can cheese fondue. You know how much he hates it.

  I read it twice. This has to be fate.

  I look up at Rocco. If we plan on talking business, I prefer not to be gazing at him over candlelight while I’m holding a glass of robust red wine in my hand.