I went to Atlanta solo because I couldn’t bear the thought of asking any of the men I know to accompany me on a weekend trip.
Any man other than West, that is.
It’s been almost two months since I was in his hotel suite in Vegas, but I admit that he’s invaded my thoughts on a regular basis.
Often, it’s at night when I’m in bed.
My mind wanders to the memory of the sound of his voice, and how his hands felt on my body.
After we had sex, he got up to dispose of the condom in the washroom. When he came back to bed, he held me tightly whispering gentle words about how he was going to lick my pussy until I couldn’t take it anymore before he fucked me again.
We both drifted off to sleep before that could happen. When I woke up the next morning, I realized that I needed to be at the airport less than two hours later for my flight to New York, so I got dressed and raced out of his room without waking him.
I spent the bulk of the flight ignoring questions from Harmony and Priscilla about where I’d been all night.
I didn’t tell them, or anyone else that I was with a gorgeous stranger.
“Don’t be upset,” Harmony says as she pierces her fork into a piece of one of the blueberry pancakes on her plate. “Kendra had a field trip the day she called to tell me about the baby. She probably didn’t have time to make three calls. ”
I smile across the table at her when I see the concern in her eyes. Harmony has always been the peacemaker of our group. She took on the job of keeping everyone in our friendship foursome happy even though no one asked her to.
“I’m not upset,” I say honestly. “I’m excited for Kendra. I know she’s eager to be a mom.”
“She’s already talking about setting up a nursery.” She heaves a sigh. “I told her to wait until she hits her second trimester, but she’s out looking at cribs with Danny today.”
I glance at my phone when it chimes with a new text message. Before I can pick it up, Harmony’s hand is on mine. “It’s work, isn’t it?”
I read the brief message from my dad. “I have a lot on my plate.”
“It’s Saturday,” she points out with a wave of the fork in her hand in my direction. “The only thing on your plate is one poached egg, a piece of bacon and a half-eaten piece of toast.”
I look down at the breakfast special I ordered but barely touched. “I have to go into the office today.”
Harmony’s gaze darts around the interior of the diner we’re in. When she called me last night to tell me she’d be in the city today, I told her to meet me for brunch at Crispy Biscuit. It’s a favorite of mine. I come here every Saturday morning. “That’s bullshit.”
“It’s my life.” I sigh.
“That’s why you’re dressed like that?”
I give the black pants and white blouse I’m wearing a once-over. Harmony opted for a more relaxed look. She’s wearing jeans and a lightweight pink sweater.
“What’s wrong with how I’m dressed?” I smile.
“It’s not exactly hot man bait.” She rolls her eyes. “Speaking of hot men…are you seeing anyone? Or fucking anyone? Are you doing anything with any good-looking men?”
I rub my hand over my mouth to hide the wide grin on my lips. “I’m busy with work.”
“I take that to mean you haven’t seen a cock in a while.” Her brows perk. “Maybe since Vegas? I know you hooked up with that hot-as-hell stripper.”
“I didn’t.” I look her straight in the eye. “Nothing happened between us.”
She studies my face. “You came back to the room with your tank top inside out, so if you didn’t do the stripper, you picked up a random.”
I shrug off her words. “I prefer to live in the present.”
“Fine,” she huffs. “Presently your pussy is lonely.”
I glance around the diner, trying to contain my laugh. “I want to come back here for brunch next week so let’s change the subject before they toss us out.”
That lures a smile to her lips. “You could use some action.”
“As much as I’d like to talk about my sex life all day, I have just enough time to hear about what’s happening in your life.” I tap the face of my watch. “Give it to me in thirty seconds or less.”
“Thirty seconds or less?” She tosses my words back with a lift of her brow. ”Things are good at work. They’re perfect at home. I’m living my dream.”
I push back from the table, fishing in my purse for my wallet. “Today is my treat, right? You picked up the tab last time?”
Last time was the week before Kendra’s wedding when Harmony and I went to lunch before we tackled shopping for a joint wedding gift.
She nods. “Tell David that I think he should cut you a break and give you a weekend off.”
I toss some money on the table before I shoulder my bag. “I’ll tell my dad you said hi and that you miss him.”
“That’s not quite the same, but fine,” she says with a smile. “I do miss him. He was the biggest fan of our volleyball team during senior year.”
He was. My dad never missed a game. He cheered Harmony and I on with everything he had. It meant a lot to her since her dad died before her tenth birthday.
I lean down to give her a hug. “Text me this week if anything exciting happens.”
She pats my back. “Promise me you won’t work too hard.”
I can’t promise that. I need to work as hard as I can if I’m going to take over as CEO of Faye & Sons once my dad retires next year.
I have a lot to prove to him, and I’ll take advantage of every opportunity I can to show him that I’m the woman for the job.
***
“Why is she here?” My stepbrother, Mitchell, looks across the conference table at my dad as I walk in. “Isn’t she knee deep in the campaign for that Walters woman?”
“Ivy Marlow-Walker?” I smile at my dad just as he’s about to open his mouth to respond. “She owns a multi-million dollar jewelry design business, Mitchell. She’s an important client. Actually, every client we have is important which is why I make it a point to research all of them, even if I’m not working directly with them.”
My dad beams at my words, his green eyes lighting up.
“Whatever, Linny.” Mitchell skims his hand over his short blond hair. “We aren’t here to talk about rings and bracelets.”
We’re here on a Saturday to discuss a new major client who reached out to our firm last week.
“I asked Linny to join us.” My dad stands as I approach him. “I want all hands on deck on this one.”
Mitchell rolls his blue eyes.
I’m used to it. I’m used to everything about him since we met ten years ago when my dad started dating his mom.
Back then, Mitchell was a lost twenty-year-old. He had a high school diploma and no direction. My dad’s influence was enough to persuade Mitchell to go to college to study advertising.
I focused on a marketing degree and ever since we’ve been in a silent battle to earn a seat behind the desk in my dad’s office once he celebrates his sixty-fifth birthday next year and jets off to retirement in Florida with my stepmom, Diane.
My dad takes me into his arms for a quick hug. “Thanks for coming, sweetheart.”
“I wouldn’t miss this for the world, Dad.” I drop my purse on the table and settle into one of the chairs.
“Me either, Dad,” Mitchell drawls. He conveniently refers to my dad that way only when it benefits him. The rest of the time he calls him Dave.
“Alright, team. Let’s get to work,” my dad says, taking the seat at the head of the table.
We’re far from a team, but I’ll play nice if it’s good for the company since I know that one day soon, Mitchell Bilton will be answering to me and me alone.
Chapter 9
Jeremy
“I’m tapping out, Rocco.” I rest my hands on my knees. My leg muscles are on fire. “For fuck’s sake you win, alright? You win. Dinner is on me.”
Rocco turns to look at me.
He’s as worn out as I am, but he was determined to win our bet.
We made the wager right before we started our run through Central Park. Whoever quit first had to cover the cost of dinner tonight. I knew before we crossed the street in front of his apartment that I’d be the one pulling my wallet out at the end of our meal.
“We’re eating at Nova. It’s that place in Greenwich Village. You’re heard of it, right?” He lifts a hand to wipe away the sweat pouring down his face and onto his bare chest. “I’m ordering the most expensive dish on the menu.”
“You’re an asshole.” I laugh. “If I would have won, we’d be eating a BLT and fries at Crispy Biscuit.”
“You order that every time we meet there for lunch.” His hands drop to his hips right above where his black shorts are sitting.
I stand straight and suck in a few deep breaths. “We’re not going to Nova. It takes weeks to get a reservation. Pick another place.”
“We have a reservation for tonight.” He approaches me, his gaze drifting over my shoulder.
“You made a reservation?” I huff out a laugh. “When?”
“Four days ago when you invited yourself along for my Saturday afternoon run and told me that you could beat me in distance.”
“Cocky bastard.” I rub my hand over the back of my neck. “What time are we doing this?”
“Eight.” He tilts his chin up. “You down for double or nothing?”
I cock a brow. “Now?”
“Right now.”
We’ve been tossing bets back and forth since he signed on as a partner in my business. I’ve yet to turn one down. “I’m in.”
“If I win, we drink a bottle of their most expensive wine with dinner. If you win, we’ll go to Crispy Biscuit.”
“I’ll win. Tell me what I need to do.”
“Check that tracker app on your phone.” He points at the phone that’s strapped to my bicep. “If it’s turned on, I’ll be sipping the best chardonnay money can buy tonight. If it’s turned off, you’ll get that bacon, lettuce and tomato sandwich you want.”
“It’s a bet and I win,” I announce with a grin. “I deleted that fucking app two days ago.”
His gaze jumps over my shoulder again. “Check your phone, Jeremy.”
I tug open the strap on my arm and release my phone. “Unless you know something I don’t, there’s no way in hell you’re winning this bet.”
“Mr. Weston?”
I curse under my breath when I hear the voice behind me. It’s Blythe, my assistant.
“Oh, Mr. Jones.” She brushes past me to extend her hand to Rocco. “You’re looking…well.”
Rocco takes her hand in his. “It’s Blythe, right?”
She giggles at that even though she’s married and at least three decades older than him. “You remembered.”
“How could I forget you?” he asks with a straight face. He’s dropped by my office twice and both times Blythe practically tripped over her own feet rushing to get him a cup of coffee made exactly the way he likes.
“Tell me this is a coincidence, Blythe.” I look at her purple shorts and pink butterfly-patterned blouse. “Thank you for never wearing that to the office.”
She bats a hand over my shoulder. “You’ve been ignoring my calls, Jeremy.”
“It’s Saturday.” I skim my fingers over my phone’s screen. I know I’ll find that damn app back on my phone. Blythe and I have been doing a back-and-forth dance for the past month. She installs it on my phone to track where I am. I delete the app and change my phone’s password.
She guesses the new password and we start the cycle all over again.
“Shit,” I say under my breath when I spot the app. “When the hell did you have your hands on my phone during the past two days?”
She shrugs as she watches me delete it again. “Yesterday. You ran to the break room to get me a coffee.”
“He gets you coffee?” Rocco’s voice draws Blythe’s attention back to him.
I shoot him a look. “I was headed in that direction.”
“I appreciate it.” Blythe pats my cheek before she swipes her palm across the front of her blouse. “You’re a little sweaty.”
I cup my jaw. I want to get out of here and home to a cool shower. “Why did you chase me down today? The office is closed. You’re supposed to be enjoying your day off with Harve.”
“Harve is having a nap.” Brushing a strand of her gray hair behind her ear, she glances up at Rocco. “My hubby doesn’t have the same stamina as a young fellow like you.”
He leans in close to her. “When he wakes up tell him what a lucky man he is to have you.”
Her mouth lifts in a broad smile. “I’ll be sure to tell him you said that.”
“Blythe.” I snap my fingers. “Over here. Why the hell did you track me down?”
She nods her head. “Oh, right. I left an invitation on your desk yesterday. I know you opened it. You were supposed to RSVP by noon today.”
I look at my phone’s screen. It’s twelve-thirty. “You raced out here to ask if I’d be willing to have dinner with your best friend’s niece tomorrow night?”
“She’s perfect for you, Jeremy. “She takes a step back to look over my dark blue running shorts and matching T-shirt. “Clean yourself up and shave. She likes boys who are clean-shaven.”
Rocco chuckles.
I don’t glance in his direction. I keep my gaze squarely on my assistant. “Lindsay is a lovely woman, Blythe, but…”
“But nothing,” she interrupts. “You’re a perfect match. You’re both single. I saw the sparks that were flying between you two when she came to visit me at the office last week.”
There wasn’t a spark in sight; at least not on my end.
“I’m interested in someone else. It’s going to be a no, Blythe.”
She studies my face carefully. “Why have I not met this woman you’re interested in?”
Because I don’t know who the fuck she is.
I spent a few hours with her in a hotel room in Vegas two months ago and I can’t stop thinking about her.
I’ve tried.
Jesus, have I tried.
I’ve taken women to dinner. I’ve gone home with them, and every single fucking time, I don’t end up in bed. Instead, I retell the story of the gorgeous green-eyed woman in the pink tutu I met on my way to Vegas and how she disappeared before I woke up.
It still haunts me that I only got a taste. If I would have kept my goddamn eyes open that night I would have had more time with her.
For the rest of my life, I’m going to regret falling asleep that night.
Rocco clears his throat. He’s heard me complain about Blythe a handful of times the past few months including last week when I told him she put that tracker app on my phone.
He knows she oversteps, but he’s well aware of what an asset she is to me. She’s one of the few people in this world that I trust.
“I’m heading up Central Park South.” Rocco offers his arm to Blythe. “Can I walk you somewhere?”
She grabs his bicep, wrapping her hand around it. “I’m ready. Let’s go.”
“You live in the opposite direction, Blythe,” I point out.
“I know.” She winks at me. “We’re going to take the scenic route.”
I shake my head as I watch them walk away. Hundreds of people are in the park on this warm summer afternoon, but my gaze is only drawn to women with shoulder-length brown hair.
I have no idea if the woman I spent the night with in Las Vegas lives in Manhattan, but that hasn’t stopped me from scanning the face of every brunette I’ve seen since that night.
I may never lay eyes on her again, but it sure as hell doesn’t hurt to look.
Chapter 10
Linny
I glance down at my phone and the text message that just arrived.
Harmony: I told you he was hot.
I hate when she’s right, but
I can’t deny that the man she set me up with is good-looking.
This is the third time in the past year that Harmony has arranged a date for me. The first two times I didn’t make it to the dessert course before I called it a night.
I’m enjoying a delicious slice of cheesecake with fresh blueberries at the moment, so Roland Elgar is faring better than other of the other men Harmony thought would be perfect for me.
“It doesn’t bother me if you check your phone, Linny.” Roland smiles as he finishes the last bite of the strawberry napoleon he ordered. “My work follows me out of the office too.”
He’s a professor of economics at NYU. He owns a townhouse in Brooklyn and spends his Sunday afternoons having dinner with his brother who happens to teach at the same school as Harmony.
It was during one of those dinners a few weeks ago that Harmony met Roland. They kept in touch, she mentioned me to him, and this afternoon she texted me to see if I was free for dinner.
I know she arranged it because she felt sorry for me after our brunch earlier. I told her as much in my text reply, but she responded almost instantly that he was the one who reached out to her today to see if I was available.
I didn’t believe her but since I had nothing on my agenda, and I love the food here at Nova, I told her I’d meet him after I did a quick search for him online.
His bio picture on the New York University website doesn’t do him justice. His black hair is mussed from the wind outside. His green eyes are a shade darker than mine. He’s dressed in a navy blue suit with a white shirt and purple tie.
We both lean back when the server approaches to remove our dessert plates. “Can I get either of you an after dinner drink?”
I look to Roland for guidance. I’m not about to invite him back to my place, and if he offers up the promise of a nightcap at his townhouse, I’ll turn him down. Our date will be over if we decline the drink offer.
Sin Page 4
