Seduced by the CEO

by Pamela Yaye

  Nicco didn’t know what possessed him to touch her, but when his hands connected with her flesh he felt a rush, a charge so powerful his knees buckled. They stood in the middle of the café, staring at each other. His desire for her so strong, his mind went blank. “Please don’t go. We’re not finished talking.”

  Leaning forward, he read the name printed on the top hand corner of her tank top. Jariah Brooks. Nicco tried it on for size, allowing the syllables to stroke the length of his tongue, before deciding that her name was as striking as her dark, creamy complexion. “I’d love to take you out sometime, Jariah. Can I get your phone number?”

  “I’m busy.”

  “Every night?”

  “Look,” she snapped, “I’m having a really bad day, and I’m not in the mood to hear any of your slick lines, so go hit on someone else.”

  “Let’s sit down and talk.”

  “Let’s not and say we did.”

  “Do you know who I am?”

  Jariah sputtered a laugh. “No, should I?”

  “I think so.” Bragging was usually beneath him, but to impress the saucy fitness instructor, he was willing to use every trick in the book. “I’m well-known around these parts. My picture is always in the newspapers and on TV.”

  She stared at him for a moment, as if trying to place his face, then fervently nodded her head. “Oh, wow,” she gushed, pointing a finger at him. “I thought you looked familiar.”

  A grin overwhelmed Nicco’s mouth. Finally. Now that Jariah recognized him—and knew that he was one of the most successful restaurateurs in the nation—they could skip the preamble and head straight to the penthouse suite at his favorite, luxury hotel. He had plans for Jariah, plans that involved whip cream, Cristal, and a box of Magnum condoms, and the sooner they got to his suite at the Hilton Bentley the better.

  “You were on last night’s episode of Cheaters, weren’t you?”

  Hanging his head, Nicco clutched his shirt, as if wounded by the dig, but deep down he was amused. Aroused actually. He loved their playful banter. Much like her stunning looks, Jariah’s cheeky wit was a turn-on. But what Nicco liked most about the mocha-brown was her mouth. Her lips were thick, moist and plump, and looked incredibly inviting.

  “Sorry, but I’m not interested.”

  “Not interested?” Nicco chuckled a laugh. “Can’t say I’ve ever heard that one before.”

  “There’s a first time for everything,” she said in a sing-song voice.

  “Are you married?”

  “Why?” she quipped. “Are you looking for your one true love?”

  Nicco choked on his tongue. Hell, no! he thought, sliding his hands into the back pocket of his blue Levi’s jeans. I’m only thirty-four and besides I’m far too smart to ever do something as stupid as tying the knot! Nicco caught himself, just as he felt a tidal wave of guilt. Not everyone who fell in love and got married was foolish. His kid brother, Demetri, had found love with news reporter Angela Kelly—and he’d never seen a happier, more loving couple. Since popping the question last month on live TV, Demetri and Angela had become the newest celebrity “it” couple, and every time Nicco talked to his brother he waxed poetic about his new fiancée and their upcoming wedding.

  Happily ever after isn’t for everyone, and it certainly isn’t for me. Nicco didn’t do relationships, and rarely saw the same woman twice, but he was willing to make an exception for Jariah-Curves-Galore-Brooks. One night with the saucy beauty wouldn’t be enough. He’d need a week with her, shoot, maybe even two or three.

  Nicco couldn’t think straight. It was hard for him to stay present in the moment. He felt unsteady on his feet, as if he’d been smacked upside the head by a Roger Clemons fastball. This had never happened to him before. Ever. No one had ever affected him like this. Over the years he’d hooked up with a wide assortment of red-carpet darlings, but Jariah Brooks was the first and only woman to ever take his breath away.

  His heart roared like the engine of his Harley Davidson, and when Jariah moistened her lips with her tongue, Nicco strangled a groan. I don’t know how much more of this I can take, he thought, raking a hand through his short, curly hair.

  “Mommy!”

  Nicco felt someone bump the back of his legs and a cold liquid splash onto his sandals. A chubby, wide-eyed girl with pigtails jumped into Jariah’s arms and giggled with delight. Her hands swung wildly, and every time she moved her drink splashed onto him.

  Stepping back, Nicco snatched a wad of napkins off the breakfast counter along the front window and dabbed at the front of his black V-neck T-shirt.

  “Mommy, can we go to the beach? Please? Pretty please?” the girl whined, tugging on her mother’s tank top. “I promise to be a good listener.”

  “Not today, Ava. You have a dentist appointment at ten forty-five.”

  The girl stamped her foot. “But I don’t want to go to the stinky dentist. I want to go to the beach! You promised I could go swimming!”

  Intrigued by the exchange, Nicco glanced up. The little girl was the splitting image of Jariah. Mother and daughter shared the same dark brown complexion, wide, expressive eyes, and delicate button nose. A tanned, stocky man joined them, and kissed Jariah on each cheek. He wore a lopsided smile, and was so smitten with the fitness instructor he had stars in his eyes.

  Feeling dumb for hitting on her, Nicco mentally berated himself for publicly making a fool of himself. He watched the trio exit the café, and as Jariah strode past the front window, hand-in-hand with her daughter, their eyes met. She caught him staring at her—again—but this time Nicco didn’t flash his trademark grin. There was nothing to smile about. Jariah had a kid, and at least two men in her life. And since children and drama were a turn-off Nicco tore his gaze away from her pretty face and studied his diamond Montblanc wristwatch instead.

  Nicco dumped his napkins in the garbage. He had to hurry or he’d be late. He had an eleven o’clock meeting with the head of his security team, Gerald Stanley, and was anxious to hear if the former navy SEAL had garnered any new information about the break-in at his downtown restaurant. The perpetrators had caused thousands of dollars’ worth of damage, but two months later the police still had no leads. He suspected deep in his gut that his ex-assistant, Gracie O’Connor, was involved, but he wasn’t ready to share his thoughts with anyone. He was going to handle it his way, and no one was going to stop him—not even his brothers.

  How had things come to this? How had things gone so bad, so quickly? Nicco wondered, expelling a deep, troubled breath. A year ago, he’d been on top of the world, living the good life, but the day before his thirty-fourth birthday his whole world had fallen apart. Twelve months later, he was still picking up the pieces.

  Slipping on his aviator sunglasses, he strode purposefully through the café doors. Outside, at the intersection of Ocean Drive and First Street, Nicco spotted Jariah and her daughter. The little girl was cute, every bit as beautiful as her mother, and Nicco couldn’t help thinking what a great-looking family they were.

  Nicco shook his head, dismissed the unsolicited thought that rose in his mind. Jariah Brooks is a stunner, but I definitely dodged a bullet there. Kids weren’t his thing, but playing the field definitely was, and as soon as he finished his workday he was making a move on the full-figured brunette at his favorite spa. The masseuse wasn’t as witty as Jariah Brooks was, but she was the ready, willing, down-for-whatever-in-the-bedroom type, and tonight, that was all that mattered to Nicco Morretti.

  Chapter 2

  Jariah sat at the conference room table inside Morretti Inc. mentally preparing for her interview. Her heart was beating so loud and fast she feared she would collapse. As Jariah waited for the Human Resources Director to arrive, she straightened her dress and assessed her look. Jariah was excited about the account manager position, but worried her nerves would
get the best of her and she’d trip all over her words.

  Glancing around the conference room, she took in the tasteful paintings, the leafy plants positioned beside the window and the low-hanging lights. I have to nail this interview. I need this job and the salary even more. Jariah had been out of work for months, and pounding the pavement had yet to produce any results. Teaching aerobic classes at Premier Fitness was great fun, and she loved seeing her students’ progress each week, but the paycheck just wasn’t cutting it. Her bills were piling up, and Jariah feared if she didn’t land a full-time position soon she’d have to dip into her emergency fund.

  And what will I do once that runs out? Jariah told herself not to imagine the worst possible scenario—the one with her losing her home and crawling back to her ex-fiancé. It didn’t matter what Wesley said. She would make it without him, and when she did, she’d finally be able to give her daughter, Ava, the life she’d always dreamed of. And she didn’t need Wesley or anyone else to help make it happen.

  Turning her face toward the window, she closed her eyes and allowed the sunshine raining down from the morning sky to calm her fears. Jariah felt herself relax, felt the tension radiating through her cold, chilled body recede. Hearing her cell phone vibrate from inside her purse, Jariah slid a hand into the side pocket and took out her BlackBerry. Jariah had three new text messages from Wesley, and each one was more annoying than the last. He was furious that she had refused to get back together with him. So he’d been blowing up her phone for weeks, his cruel taunts only proved how immature he was.

  Switching off her cell phone, she dropped it inside her purse, and sat back comfortably in her leather wingback chair. Jariah was sick of Wesley’s superior, know-it-all attitude and she refused to take any of his calls.

  Wesley Covington, the twenty-nine-year-old chief administrative deputy making waves from Orange County to Capitol Hill, was not only the father of her daughter, but an overgrown child himself. The Ivy League graduate had the power to ruin a perfectly good day, and as Jariah thought about the messages he’d sent her, she wondered for the umpteenth time what she’d ever seen in the privileged mama’s boy.

  Why can’t I meet a nice guy? Jariah wondered, releasing a troubled sigh. Someone sweet, chivalrous and romantic, who was good with kids. Hoping the man upstairs was listening, she stared up at the ceiling pitifully, as if that would seal the deal. A little chemistry would be nice, too, she thought with a fervent nod of her head. Since calling it quits with Wesley eight months ago, Jariah had been on dozens of dates but none of the guys she met excited her.

  A picture of a tall, gorgeous guy with intense eyes and curly hair sprang in her mind. As Jariah sat there, thinking about the hottie who’d approached her at Javalicious on Friday, she inwardly chastised herself for not giving him her phone number. Why? her inner voice questioned. He’s a player who’s probably bedded more women than Hugh Hefner!

  Hearing a sharp knock on the door, she shot to her feet and adjusted her Donna Karen dress. The door opened, and Jariah stood there, dumbfounded. Her lips parted, but nothing came out. What the hell? What is he doing here? It was the guy from Javalicious. The one who’d hit on her, and probably every other woman in the popular café. On Friday, he’d looked handsome in his casual T-shirt and khaki pants, but today he looked like a Hugo Boss model fresh off the runway. Clean-cut, with thick eyebrows, and sideburns, his ebony-black hair a mass of short, tight curls, he carried himself like a man who was used to getting his way in the boardroom and in the bedroom. All arms and legs, he was the height of a basketball player, and had the strong, muscled physique to match.

  Her eyes slid greedily down his chiseled body. His shoulders filled out every inch of his lightweight suit jacket, his sky-blue shirt showed off the powerful definition of his upper chest, and his tailored pants hung just so. The man knew how to rock a suit, and smelled as debonair as he looked. He was cool, suave and hot—just like she remembered. He wasn’t the kind of man a woman forgot, and as he crossed the room toward her, Jariah felt a rush of panic. Her palms grew slick with sweat, and if her knees shook any harder her legs would give way.

  “We meet again,” the stranger said in a velvety smooth voice. “Jariah, right?”

  Taken by his smile and his dreamy scent, all Jariah could do was nod her head. Is this really happening? she wondered. Am I actually standing face-to-face with the guy I blew off two days ago? He was too close, but Jariah didn’t move. Couldn’t, not when he was openly staring at her. The Italian hunk was the sexiest thing on two legs, but something about him still rubbed her the wrong way. Jariah didn’t know anything about the attractive stranger, but she could spot a player a mile away, and this guy was definitely that. His cocksure stance said it all: I’m handsome and charming and I can have any woman I want.

  Not me Casanova, so back off!

  “I thought that was you. I glanced into the conference room, and there you were.” He slid a hand casually into his pocket, stood there as if he had all the time in the world to shoot the breeze. “Shouldn’t you be at the gym teaching the morning Bootie Camp class?”

  “Are you stalking me?”

  His eyes gleamed with mischief. “No. Would you like me to?”

  Jariah couldn’t think of a witty comeback to put him in his place, so she said nothing.

  “I’m just kidding,” he said, holding his hands up in the air, as if he was surrendering to Miami’s finest. “I work here. What’s your story?”

  “If you must know, I’m here for a job interview.”

  “That’s really great news.”

  Baffled by his statement and his enthusiasm, she said, “It is?”

  “Absolutely. This place is filled with a bunch of boring, stuffy suits, and it’ll be a nice to have a woman like you around for a change.”

  “A woman like me?” she repeated, raising an eyebrow. “What is that supposed to mean?”

  “You’ve got moxie, and I find your honesty refreshing.”

  “You don’t know me.”

  “Not yet,” he shot back. “But I’m working on it.”

  He smelled of expensive cologne, and when he raked a hand through his hair, Jariah wondered what it would be like to play in his dark, thick curls.

  “How’s your daughter? Did everything go okay at the dentist on Friday?”

  Stunned by the question, Jariah eyed him closely, trying to recall their previous conversation. What is this guy up to? Is it possible that he is stalking me? He didn’t give off that creepy, peeping-tom vibe, but he made her nervous. His questions put her on edge, made her uncomfortable. Before she could put him in his place, the door opened and a skinny brunette wearing designer eyeglasses and a stylish gray pantsuit marched briskly inside.

  Stopping abruptly, she said, “Good morning, Mr. Morretti. Is there a problem?”

  Jariah didn’t hear the gasp that escaped her lips, but it must have shot out of her mouth in surround-sound because the brunette gave her a funny look.

  Touching a hand to her scalding-hot cheeks, Jariah choked down the lump in the back of her throat. This young, ridiculously hot guy owns Morretti Incorporated? Hell, no. No way. It couldn’t be, she argued, refusing to believe it. He was the boss’s son. Had to be. Remembering their conversation on Friday made Jariah wince. I am so screwed. There’s no way I’m getting this job. Not after the way I spoke to him at the coffee shop.

  “Please, Mrs. Reddick, call me Nicco.” His eyes were narrowed, as if he was pissed off, but his mouth held a teasing grin. “Save the formalities for Rafael and my father. I’m far more laid-back. Haven’t you figured that out by now?”

  Jariah wanted to roll her eyes but didn’t. The HR director was wearing a wedding ring the size of a jaw breaker, and was likely in her mid-forties, but she giggled like a kid watching Finding Nemo.

  “Mrs. Reddick, if it’s okay with you I’d
like to sit in on this interview.”

  No, it’s not okay! Jariah screamed inside in her head. She prayed the brunette would show Nicco Morretti the door, but when he flashed one of his wide, panty-wetting smiles at the HR director, she eagerly nodded her head.

  “Of course, by all means.” Mrs. Reddick gestured to the conference room table with more flair than a model at the Miami Car Show. “Please, pull up a chair and join us.”

  “Can I get you something to drink?” Nicco asked, sliding behind Jariah and holding out her chair. “Coffee? Tea? A glass of wine?”

  Jariah felt the compulsion to laugh, but didn’t. Who drinks wine at nine-thirty in the morning? she wondered. I bet he does! Nicco was testing her, but Jariah refused to let the hot-shot businessman unnerve her. Guys like Nicco Morretti—rich, arrogant, womanizers—were a dime a dozen in Miami and hardly her type. It didn’t matter that he had dashing good looks, or more swagger than a championship winning bull fighter. He was just a man, and like her ex, not someone she could ever trust. Nicco Morretti was a charmer, a guy who got off on seducing women and no one could tell her otherwise. “No, thank you. I’m fine.”

  Girl, you better lick those lips and hike up that skirt!

  Jariah was appalled by the thought that entered her mind. Yes, Nicco Morretti was attractive, and flirting with him certainly wouldn’t hurt her cause, but Jariah wanted to the get the account manager’s job on her own merit. Not because she’d flashed some cleavage at the boss’s son. She wouldn’t do it. No way, no how.

  All business, the HR Director sat down with a flourish and opened the manila file folder she’d put down on the round, mahogany table. “Welcome to Morretti Inc., Ms. Brooks. I’m Mrs. Reddick. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

  To conceal the fact that she was shaking, Jariah crossed her legs, and clasped her hands around her knees. Taking a deep breath didn’t calm her nerves, and Jariah feared if she tried to speak nothing would come out.

  “Tell us about yourself, Ms. Brooks. What would you like us to know about you?”