Mix'n Business With Pleasure

by Hadley Raydeen

  Mix’n Business With Pleasure

  Hadley Raydeen

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Epilogue

  About the Author

  Also by Hadley Raydeen

  Copyright © 2017 by Hadley Raydeen

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Chapter 1

  A soft scraping noise startled her from a deep sleep. Rolling slowly to her side, she peered through the one eye she managed to pry open. “Damn squirrel,” she grumbled. She tried to roll back over and ignore the sound. But the nuisance persisted and she had no choice but to get up and inspect the disruption.

  Yawning, she shoved the dark gray and teal comforter from her body and glanced at the bedside table. “Seven o’freaking clock in the morning. You have to be kidding me!”

  She wanted to slingshot the little son of a bitch, but she was as much David as he was Goliath and well, she didn’t have any smooth stones in her room. Guess no Philistine squirrels would be dying today. But she sure as hell would shut out the noise.

  Her bare feet hit the cool oak floor and she padded over to the window. “So much for letting in the quiet, fresh morning air,” she grumbled.

  She opened the shade to shut the window, and came face to face with most amazing set of eyes she’d ever seen in her life. Azure irises, hidden behind dark lashes, stared back at her.

  She stumbled back from the window in shock. Her heart thudded against her chest in fear at first and then with an air of indignation. She glared at the owner of the tempting pools of blue. A man, rather muscular in build, was kneeling outside her window.

  “Um, excuse me? Who in the hell are you and what are you doing outside my bedroom window?” She looked over his face, in dire need of a shave, and over his body and noted he wore work clothes that had seen better days, showing obvious signs of wear and dried paint. Hiding behind the thin t-shirt was evident; taut muscles. He retracted his arm from whatever he was doing and narrowed his gaze at her.

  His visual assault lingered at her chest. She looked down to see her thin, silk nightgown hardly covering her breasts from his prying eye. She crossed her arms over her sensitive peaks and glared at him. Shit! I should have grabbed my robe.

  But to her credit, she hadn’t realized a man would be outside her window when she pulled her shade. She stomped her foot and he lifted an amused gaze to look her in the eyes once again.

  “I asked ‘what you are doing, sir’? Answer my question,” she snapped.

  He waved a paintbrush in the air by way of an answer.

  “You’re…painting…painting…damn you!” She could feel the heat rising from her toes to her face. Annoyed and tired from the late night before at work, this was not the way she wanted to start her morning. She needed rest. Her one morning to sleep in and she was awakened with this nonsense. “I thought you were a squirrel!”

  “I’m rather large for a squirrel, ma’am,” he jested.

  She looked him over and he was rather large in all the right places. But it was too early to flirt. “Funny. Really, you should quit painting and try your hand at stand-up.” She rolled her eyes and pulled the shade back to block his prying, albeit gorgeous, eyes and devastatingly handsome grin. She glanced at her reflection in the nearest mirror and grimaced. “Shit, I look a mess,” she grumbled, peering at the silk scarf wrapped around her head. Her puffy eyes looked like she hadn’t rested in days. Her nipples, taut from the cool morning air, pushed against the thin material in a most revealing way. No wonder he was freaking staring. I’m giving the man a free show of the girls!

  She pulled the scarf from her hair and finger combed a style into place. Finally wrapping a silk robe around her exposed breasts, she went back to the window to lift the shade.

  “Well, hello again. Long time no see.” He grinned, continuing his paint strokes around the trim of her window.

  “I’m not back for chit-chat. First of all, I want to know who told you to paint my house? And why, for the love of God, are you doing it this early in the morning?”

  “Your brother.” His answer was straight to the point. He continued his work without pause.

  “My—my brother? Braedon did this?” Oh, that ass is gonna pay.

  He mentioned something about hiring someone to do repairs on the house, but he hadn’t said anything about this particular morning or this particular sexy someone.

  “I’ll be done with this window in a few minutes, ma’am. I will leave you alone after that.”

  “Stop calling me ‘ma’am’. I’m not old.”

  “Never said you were. You called me ‘sir’. I thought it was a thing we were doing.”

  She narrowed her gaze at him. “My name is Bevin.”

  “Pretty name,” he said, gazing back at her, “for a pretty lady.”

  She could feel her skin, once warm with frustration, now working up a perfect little inferno from his hot little stare.

  Is this painter flirting with me outside my bedroom window? If this isn’t some bizarre Romeo and Juliet craziness. She cleared her throat. “Thank you.”

  He nodded and continued to work. She peeked out at the small roof over her porch and her front yard.

  “Please be careful. I don’t need any lawsuits if you fall and break something.”

  He stopped and smirked at her. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

  “Are you working by yourself? You don’t have any helpers?”

  “I work better alone,” he answered.

  Okay. Point taken. I am standing here, in next to nothing, talking to this man. He doesn’t want to be bothered.

  “I’ll take that as my queue to leave. Can I offer you anything, coffee or…”

  He regarded her with amusement. “You don’t have to leave, Bevin. It’s your house, after all. You can be wherever you want to be. But coffee would be wonderful since you are offering.” The way the words ran smoothly from his lips caused a flush of heat over her body. She didn’t speak, unable to find the right words to say at the moment. He relieved her of the stress of finding words by filling the silence with his words.

  “I’ll be working down on your front porch next. I’ll meet you down there.”

  “Okay,” she finally managed. “I’ll go down and get that coffee started.” She shut the window and lowered the shade, blocking her view from his handsome face. “Mmm. Yes, coffee coming right up, Mr. Blue Eyes. Talk about the best part of waking up.”

  She showered and dressed as quickly as possible in a khaki pair of shorts and a red tank top. She phoned her brother and left him a message. “You co
uld have warned me the damn painter was showing up today at seven o’clock in the morning, Braedon! So much for sleeping in! I’ll talk to you later. Love you, brat!” She tapped end call on her Android and placed it on the counter by the coffee maker. She loved the hell out of her only brother, but sometimes he knew how to get under her skin with his controlling ways.

  She sighed and breathed in the scent of fresh brewed Arabica filling her kitchen and she leaned against the counter to soak it in. From a picture window in her family room, she caught sight of the painter descending the ladder and pulled out two large coffee mugs. She’d really have to ask him his name. How rude to continue referring to him as the painter.

  She walked to her front door and stuck her head out of the screen. “How do you take your coffee?” He lifted his head to look at her. An unruly piece of dark hair fell into eyes the color of her favorite precious gemstone, Sapphire. He brushed the deviant lock out of his face with a hand spotted by paint.

  Damn if his face isn’t the sexiest—.

  “Cream. No sugar. Thanks, Miss Bevin.”

  “Oh.” The gruff tone of his voice, answering her question, brought her back from devouring him with her eyes. She cleared her throat. “Sure, cream no sugar. Coming right up.” She backed away from the door. “Wouldn’t mind you being the cream in my coffee,” she muttered.

  “What was that?” She heard him call out.

  Oh hell… “Nothing, getting the coffee,” she yelled, quickly walking back to the kitchen.

  She hadn’t made coffee in the morning in a long time. There wasn’t anyone serious in her life, so there was no real reason to crank up the old coffee pot. She fell for a man, while in college, whom she thought she loved and he her, but sadly he had pushed her away. There wasn’t anyone serious in her life. She had fallen in and out of some bad dating trends after college. Catching feelings too quickly and loving the wrong ones, and having her heart broken in return. She’d decided to leave that behind and focus on building her career. Any man she’d seen recently had mainly been to pass the time until, perhaps, someone more interesting came along. Mr. Sapphire Eyes painter could definitely be someone interesting…

  She couldn’t for the life of her figure out why she was evaluating her dating scene just because one fine ass white man was standing on her porch. Get a grip girl. He doesn’t even look like the type that would be into black women. He more than likely had a gorgeous, blonde model type at home waiting to warm the sheets with. Bevin didn’t stand a chance.

  She shook the idea out of her mind and poured two steaming cups of coffee into the mugs. After mixing the dark liquid with two pours of half-and-half, she returned to the front porch.

  “Your coffee,” she said, handing him the cup.

  “Thank you.” He sipped gingerly. “Oh yea, that’s the good stuff.” His appreciation for the warm elixir rumbled from his throat. She watched him lick his lips, savoring the taste and her heart quickened, imagining just what those lips could do.

  “Do you mind?” he asked.

  Her gaze snapped from his lips to meet his gaze. Oh my God. He caught me staring…again! She searched for the knowing recognition in his face, but it wasn’t there. He pointed at his mug and then indicated he wanted to place it on her porch wall.

  “Oh, no, I don’t mind at all. Go ahead.” Her reply was more breathy than warranted and he raised a brow.

  “I’m sorry I woke you this morning.” He turned to look at her. “I usually like to get a jump on the day and start my projects when the sun rises. I beat the heat that way.”

  “Absolutely. It’s fine.” She nodded, willing her eyes not to drop to his plump lips amid a dark five o’clock shadow as he spoke. He desperately needed a razor, but damned if she didn’t wonder how good that whisker burn would feel against various parts of her body. Said parts tingled just thinking how delicious that would be.

  “Bevin?”

  “Yes? What? I’m sorry. What did you say?” She ran a hand over her face feeling the warmth against her touch. He flustered her without even trying. She didn’t want to think about the reaction he’d cause her body if he exerted some effort.

  “I asked if you wanted to see the paint colors for the house.”

  “Oh.” She cleared her throat. “Yes, please, of course.” You sound like an idiot. Stop stuttering over your words.

  “Your brother mentioned you like blues and yellows. We picked these two. Tell me what you think.”

  She followed him off her wide porch and around the side to her driveway. He handed her two paint swatches—one in a pale yellow, the other a slate blue.

  “The trim will remain white. I was touching that up this morning.” He pointed at her windows. She watched him look at her house. “The shutters would be that blue there and the rest of the house the yellow. Your brother was pretty sure you would be happy with the colors, but I wanted to get your opinion.”

  “My brother usually likes to stick his nose in where it doesn’t belong, but I have to admit your choices are spot on. I really like the colors.” Her stomach fluttered and her skin warmed when a bright smile formed on his handsome face reaching his eyes as they too shined. His white teeth were a contrast to his tanned skin and she decided his smile was perfect.

  “How long do you think this project will take, Mr…. painter. I’m sorry; you never told me your name.”

  “Oh, how rude of me. I’m Jaxon Stewart. You can call me Jax—everyone does.” He held out the paint-covered hand to shake hers, but quickly pulled it back. “I’m sorry, I’m covered in paint.”

  She laughed, reaching out to stop his retreat. “That’s okay.” She shook his hand gingerly. “Nice to meet you, Jax. Thanks for working on the house.”

  “It’s a pleasure.” He hesitated a beat or two before letting go of her hand. She felt a slight squeeze but she couldn’t be sure.

  “To answer your question, this should take a couple of days. This won’t tie you up for too long.”

  You could tie me up… She cleared her throat, shaking the image from her mind. “It’s not a bother. Just no more seven o’clock wake-ups, okay?”

  “I promise to work on this side of the house, in the afternoon, after you are well awake and about your day. Deal?”

  She smiled. “Deal.”

  By eleven o’clock she had changed her clothes to a light blue sundress and white sandals for the late summer heat. She brushed her hair back in a ponytail and applied little makeup, not wanting it to melt from her face.

  She stepped back out onto her front porch and heard the sounds of one of the local radio stations playing classic rock through the speakers of a rather large boom. She smiled at the sight. What is this, the 80’s? Talk about a relic. She assumed he pulled it out of the black pickup truck parked at the curb in front of her house. She walked out onto the front walkway and looked up at him working on the shutters on the front of her house.

  “That blue looks great,” she called up to him.

  He turned and smiled. “I’m glad you like it.”

  “Yes, I do. So, um…I’m headed out for a bit.” Who cares, Bevin? Just leave.

  “Okay. Enjoy your day,” he said, going back to work.

  Look at me again, blue eyes. She tilted her head slightly to the side, shading her eyes with a curved hand, shamelessly ogling his backside. The man could fill the hell out a pair of jeans, that was for certain. She dropped her hand, turned from him and walked away. How foolish would she look still standing there, staring at him if he happened to turn back around? Before this week of painting was over, she would make it her mission to get to know Jax a little better, but for now, it was time to leave.

  Chapter 2

  “Damn, Bev. Why were you complaining on my voice mail? You asked me to get a contractor for you and I did. I was even kind enough to pick out the paint colors, because you are always too busy. Now you are flapping your gums that the man is actually doing his job? Sorry it’s not on Queen Bevin’s time schedule. Then you’re gon
na call me a brat? You’re the brat, little sister,” her brother lectured. “Shut up, Braedon.” She picked up a French fry. Since she had worked so late the night before, she decided to take the day for herself, and her brother had agreed to meet her for lunch at a local hamburger shop. “He’s actually quite nice, so I don’t care anymore,” she continued. Her brother’s gaze narrowed, always over protective of his baby sister. “What do you mean by ‘nice’?” “He’s nice you know—he says please and thank you. He called me Miss too, like a real gentleman,” she said, trying to brush off the slip of tongue. “No, no, no,” he said putting his soft drink down. “What the hell is he saying please and thank you for, Bevin?” “I made him coffee,” she answered, quietly. “What in the world?” Braedon inquired. “Oh calm down, Brae. It was early and I was making a pot for myself anyway,” she lied. “Why not offer the man a cup? I mean for God’s sake, he is up on my roof risking falling off to make sure my house looks wonderful. The least I could do is make the man a cup of coffee,” she said, defensively. Braedon’s brows remained raised. “The least you are already doing is paying the man his wage. You aren’t responsible for his daily caffeine intake as well, Bev.” “You do this every time I talk about a man,” she blurted. “ I swear, Braedon. I’m not going to marry him and have his babies.” “You sure as hell better not.” She felt her face grow hot as indignation set in.

  “Why on earth not?” she inquired. “Come on, Bev. Could you really see yourself with this type of guy?” Braedon asked. “Why do you ask? Because he’s white?” Bevin asked point blank. Her brother sat back in his chair and crossed his arms in front of him. “I’m no bigot, Bevin. I’ve dated women outside my race before.” “Yes, you have, plenty of them, Braedon, before you finally settled down and got married. But when I’ve dated interracially, you always seem to have a problem with it. That is the worst double standard I’ve ever seen.” Her brother’s disapproving attitude toward her life choices made her furious. She hated when he acted this way. “How in the hell was I even supposed to know he is white? You never told me. And, quite frankly, I never asked that. You brought it up. So, you are the one talking about race; not me.” He smirked obviously pleased with himself for flipping the script on her. He picked up his burger and took a healthy bite. Around chewing and sipping his soda, he mumbled, “What I was going to say is can you really see yourself with a…painter?” “You’re lying.” She sat back in her seat, throwing him the stink eye. “I’m not going to get into this with you, not here, so don’t start, Bev,” he said, chewing his sandwich. “I’m not getting into anything! I simply gave Jax a cup of coffee. That’s all. Don’t expect your wedding invitation in the mail anytime soon. What’s the big deal?” she huffed. “I didn’t say there was a big deal… Wait a minute, did you say ‘Jax’?” “Yes. That is his name. You have a problem with that too?” She rolled her eyes. “Are you talking about Jaxon Stewart?” her brother continued. “Yes, I believe that is his name. Why do you ask?” “He is the owner of the contracting company I hired for you. Why would he be doing the work himself?” Braedon boomed an incredulous tone. This newfound information made her curious as well. “He didn’t say anything to me about being the owner. He only told me he likes to work on projects alone and he hoped to be done in a couple of days.” “I think I may follow you home when we finish up here. I want to meet Mr. Stewart and find out what he’s doing.” Her brother shook his head. “You haven’t met him?” Bevin raised a brow. “No. I called the company and they told me they would send someone over. When I went in to check paint samples, Mr. Stewart wasn’t there.” Her brother was getting pissed. She could see it on his face.