by Tina Martin
“That’s better,” Desmond said softly.
She opened her eyes and smiled, just barely. Glancing at her notes, she asked, “Anything else we need to go over?”
“Yes. Kissing.”
“That won’t be an issue,” Sherita quickly interjected.
“It will if you give me one of those stale kisses you gave me at the courthouse.”
“Stale? You leaned forward and kissed me. So if it was stale, it’s all your fault.”
He smirked. “Takes two people to kiss, Sherita. I leaned in for the kiss, true enough, but your mouth was closed so tight, all I could do was give you a dry peck on the lips.
Sherita sighed and dropped her pen. “Okay, enough. Nobody is going to be sitting at our table kissing, Desmond. If you want to use a kiss to signify how much in love we supposedly are, then a small peck on the cheek should be sufficient.”
Hardly. “Okay,” he responded, leaning closer to her, taking his time to smell her scent. She smelled good – sweet like candy and fruit. He was tempted to leave a kiss on her neck, but instead, he pushed his lips against her face. “Like that?”
Sherita glared at him. Why is he so annoying? “Yep…okay…think we’re done.”
He laughed. “We’re not done. I need to brief you on the business plan.”
She crossed her arms under her breasts. “Why do I need to know anything about the business plan?”
“So you know what’s going on. Victor is going to be discussing some of this new project of his at dinner, and while you don’t have to be well-versed in the plan or in any business jargon, I think you should know enough to stay interested in the conversation.” When he heard the doorbell, he stood up and said, “Breakfast is here. Be right back.”
Sherita got up from the table, searched the cabinets for a coffee mug and when she found one, she filled it with coffee. Returning to the table, she began paging through the business plan Desmond had been reading.
“Here you are,” Desmond said, placing a white, Styrofoam container in front of her. “Didn’t know what you wanted so I made an educated guess.” He sat down and began on his breakfast.
Sherita opened her tray to find eggs, bacon, toast and hash browns. She looked up at Desmond to thank him but was sidetracked when she saw the way he was eating his waffle. He didn’t eat it like most people would – with a knife and fork. After slathering it with butter and syrup, he folded the thing in half like a taco and took a huge bite out of it.
When he caught her staring, he asked, “Want a bite?”
“No, thanks.”
“You were staring at it like you wanted to take a bite. Here,” he said, extending his arm so that the waffle was a half inch away from her mouth. “Take a bite.”
“No, thanks, and I wasn’t staring.” Sherita bit into a slice of bacon.
“You were,” Desmond quipped, taking another bite of the waffle.
“The only reason I looked up at you is to thank you for buying the food, so thank you.”
“Oh, so you do have manners. Interesting.”
“Excuse me?” Sherita asked, frowning.
“When I bought coffee for you last week, you rolled your eyes at me,” he said smiling, showing the boyish dimple in his unshaven cheek. He loved pushing her buttons. Each and every single time, she’d feed right into it.
“I didn’t roll my eyes.” Sherita smiled, knowing there was a possibility she did roll her eyes. “And if I did, it was merely a reflex. After all, you did take it upon yourself to jump ahead of me and order my coffee. I didn’t ask you to.”
“And therefore, a simple thank you would’ve been proper.” He tossed a sausage link inside of his mouth. The whole link. “You know how many women wish I paid them as much attention as I pay to you?”
“Oh, so I should be flattered.” Sherita took a sip of coffee.
“Yes, you should be, Sherita.”
“I see. Well, thank you for breakfast and thanks for buying my coffee a week ago.”
“You’re welcome, princess.” He bit into another waffle, his second one, dripping syrup.
“And stop calling me that.”
He shook his head. “Nope.”
“I demand you stop calling me that,” Sherita said, withholding a smile.
He laughed. “Your demands don’t scare me.”
“Seriously, though…I don’t want to be grouped in the same category as your other women. I’m sure you have plenty of princesses in Asheville.”
“You’re being presumptuous again.”
“No, I’m not. I’ve heard about you…heard women telling stories about you at the coffee shop.”
“Forget what you heard, Sherita. I only have one princess, and again, you should be flattered.”
She looked at him, held his gaze for a moment, then watched as he crammed the rest of the waffle inside of his mouth.
Desmond wiped his mouth with a napkin, took a sip of coffee then said, “Now, back to business…Victor Westwood isn’t new to The Champion Corporation. When we first opened our doors, we wanted to do business with him, but he turned us down…said we weren’t ready. Now that we’ve grown our company into a multi-million dollar empire, he sees our strength in the market and the value and expertise we bring to the online business field. Therefore, he wants us to develop a top-notch website and phone application for his new company. My job is to come up with a comprehensive marketing strategy for the launch of his company.”
“The marketing part of it sounds a lot easier than building a website and phone application.”
“Quite the contrary. Do you know anything about marketing, Sherita?”
“No. If I did, I’d have more clients.”
“Clients?” Desmond asked with raised eyebrows.
“With my photography business.”
“Oh. Right,” he said. He picked up his iPad, quickly pulled up a search engine and typed her name. He clicked on her website and saw how unorganized it was right away. “Okay, so you know the importance of marketing. You just don’t know how it’s done.”
“Correct.”
“Well, just to give you a little lesson, marketing is the life of a business or product. I don’t care how good of a brand you are. You can have the best soda or be the best designer or, in your case, photographer – if no one knows about you, your business is as good as dead. That’s where I come in. I create ads, run social media campaigns, get people and their products on television in front of millions of viewers. The process is not as easy as you may think.”
“I guess I was wrong.”
“You were, but I won’t hold it against you.” Desmond took a sip of coffee. “Now, what I’m about to tell you is highly confidential, and I never want these words to pass through your lips.”
Sherita nodded, nervously twirling her diamond ring underneath the table.
“Victor is creating a service swap company. From what I’ve found, there may be a few of them in existence, but they don’t seem to be taking off in the mainstream. People are accustomed to paying for services, not bartering services. So I’m going to take his company and present it to the world like it’s a completely new concept even it’s not. After a few online campaigns as well as TV advertisements, his company will be number one in a matter of months.”
“You seem pretty confident about that.”
“I am.”
Sherita hid a smirk. Nothing was sexier than an intelligent, confident man. She wouldn’t tell him that, though. His ego was big enough already. After a few moments of silence, she said, “This is off topic but how much was this ring?” She placed her hand on the table.
Desmond glanced at the ring, then looked at her. “Why do you ask? Do you not like it?”
“I do like it. It just looks expensive.”
“It was…paid eighty-two thousand for it.”
Her mouth fell open. “Why would you pay so much money for a temporary ring?”
“Because anything attached to my name has to be the best
.”
“I see.” She finished the last of her coffee. “Well, I’m going to get my things organized. We can go over this stuff again later if you would like.”
“I’ll leave that up to you.”
“All right,” she said standing. “I’ll let you know, then.”
After throwing her container in the garbage, she exited the kitchen, feeling the heat of Desmond’s eyes as she did so.
CHAPTER 18
She didn’t want to ride with him. The last time they were in a vehicle together, she nearly lost her breath and her senses. When she saw him standing in the foyer, clean-shaven, wearing a black suit, matching tie and white shirt, she was certain that being in close proximity to him would give her the same effect.
“Ready?” she asked him, watching his eyes sweep over her. She was wearing black, too, as Desmond had suggested, and her hair was hanging straight with a hint of a curl on the ends.
Desmond lost his thoughts as he studied her, loving how well the dress fit her body. And she wore a pair of black heels that accentuated her calf muscles and made her about five inches taller in the process – that made her face a little closer to his face. Her lips a little closer to his lips. And she wore her hair down. He’d suggested that too, but didn’t think she would oblige. He was happy to see that she did, but it made him wonder how he would resist the urge to sink his hands into her beautiful head of hair.
“Desmond?”
“Yes. Ready. Let’s go,” he finally answered.
* * *
“Victor Westwood, it’s good to see you again,” Desmond said with a tightened jaw, shaking Victor’s hand.
“You as well, Desmond,” the man said. “And this lovely lady must be your wife.” Victor reached for Sherita’s hand, brought it up to his lips, then took a kiss from the backside of her hand.
Desmond hid a grimace and said, “Yes. This is my wife, Sherita. Sherita this is Victor Westwood.”
“It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Westwood,” Sherita said.
“Oh, darling, the pleasure is all mine, and please, call me Victor.”
“Okay, Victor,” Sherita said, pulling her hand away from his grasp.
After speaking to Emily, Dante, Melanie and Dimitrius, Desmond pulled out Sherita’s chair, made sure she was comfortable before he sat down next to her.
“I was just telling your brothers that my Florence is under the weather, but she says hello,” Victor said, speaking of his wife.
“Well, tell her we said hi,” Desmond told him.
The waitress brought over three bottles of champagne and the men each poured a glass for their wives.
“So, Desmond, now that I’ve gotten the skinny on your brothers, how long have you and Sherita been married?”
“Two years.” Desmond looked at Sherita and smiled warmly.
“Love is a beautiful thing, isn’t it?” Victor said. “When I first met Florence, I knew she was the one.”
“Really?” Sherita asked. “Was it love at first sight?”
“It was indeed. I still remember how she looked at me that day. We were at a train station, Grand Central, and I turned around to see how long the line was and our eyes connected instantly.”
“Aw,” Sherita said, placing her hand over her heart. “Desmond and I met at a café. I was sitting alone, and he came over to strike up a conversation with me. Of course I played hard to get.”
“Oh, yes…you women know how to play that game.” Victor chuckled.
“Yeah, but I had to play that game with Desmond because,” Sherita turned to look at Desmond, holding his gaze, and continued, “I didn’t want him to know the kind of affect he had on me…didn’t want him to know that whenever I was around him, my heartbeats became rapid, I couldn’t think, could hardly even breathe because he was the most handsome man I’d ever seen in my entire life. And now he’s my husband.” Sherita leaned towards Desmond, pressing her lips against his, smiling when they separated.
Emily smiled, thinking that Sherita was doing a good job of pretending. She was actually impressed, along with the rest of the family, especially, Dante.
Desmond, on the other hand, was a bit confused. He thought he’d be the dominate conversationalist between the two. He hadn’t expected Sherita to come with her ‘A’ game, especially after she seemed so uncomfortable when they were practicing at home.
While Dante and Victor were knee-deep in a discussion about online businesses, Sherita leaned over near Desmond, her lips a breath away from his ear and whispered, “I meant to tell you in the car…this lipstick won’t rub off, so don’t worry about me leaving any on you.”
She moved her head back away from him so she could see his eyes again. She saw confusion in them and couldn’t understand why. Was she not doing what he asked her to? What they’d practiced?
Dimitrius had explained to Victor the process of developing the application and, afterwards, Desmond gave Victor a high-level overview of the marketing strategy he had in mind, all to Victor’s liking.
When Desmond was done, Sherita took his left hand into her right, interlocking their fingers then bringing his hand up against the side of her face, rubbing her face against his hand – those strong, sexy hands that she was glad she had the opportunity to play with. When she lowered their hands to the table again, she traced the thick veins of his hand, drawing invisible circles before bringing that same hand to her nose, drawing in a long breath, inhaling the scent of him and closing her eyes like it gave her a drug high.
Desmond swallowed hard, feeling his entire body react to her touch, yet he tried to keep his composure by taking a sip of champagne. That didn’t help much, especially when she began pushing her lips against his hand. He watched her do this several times over before he leaned close to her ear and whispered, “What are you doing?”
A smile grew on Sherita’s face when she looked back at him. Leaning close to his ear, she said softly, “I’m kissing your hand, Desmond, but I’d much rather be kissing your lips.”
He looked at her, deep in her eyes and decided he’d much rather be kissing her lips, too. So, leaning forward for her, their lips collided, in front of everyone, while they kissed with a hunger that desperately needed to be fulfilled. Their mouths had merged, mended and with her hands against the sides of his face, she parted her lips just enough to drive him insane, releasing a soft gasp when she felt him take over. For a moment, he forgot they were still at a restaurant, not like that would’ve made a difference. Her lips were too good to let go. Even when he heard Emily clearing her throat, trying to distract them or get them to stop kissing, he kept on deepening the kiss, moaning deeply, pulling her lips. He loved her lips. Craved them. Savored them. Okay, so this was for show, all a pretense, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t take advantage of this opportunity, right?
He finally pulled his mouth away from hers, then smiled at her.
Sherita smiled back.
“Okay, looks like we need to wrap this up so the lovebirds can get home,” Victor said, grinning.
“Looks that way,” Dante said.
Sherita smiled big, threw her arm around Desmond and squeezed him as tightly as she could. She’d gone above and beyond to convince Victor that she, and Desmond were a real couple. But she couldn’t deny that she loved taking advantage of the situation to do things to him that she secretly always wanted to do – like hold his strong, muscular hand, whisper seductively in his ear and initiate a kiss. She felt a level of satisfaction that she was able to do so, and Desmond was none the wiser.
* * *
After dinner, the men congregated near Victor’s car, still talking business while Emily and Melanie were drilling Sherita about her performance.
“Sure looked real to me,” Melanie said.
Sherita giggled. “It wasn’t real and if you think it was, maybe I’m in the wrong profession.”
“Maybe you are,” Emily said. “You couldn’t keep your hands off of Desmond.”
Sherita crossed her arms. “
And you couldn’t keep your hands off of Dante, Emily.”
“Newsflash…Dante is my husband.”
“And Desmond is sort of my husband,” Sherita said. “Look, this wasn’t my idea. I just went with it, and I think I did a pretty good job.”
“Yeah, I bet Desmond thinks you did, too and, if you’d give him his tongue back, he would probably tell you that,” Melanie said. She laughed hysterically.
Sherita erupted in laughter along with Emily.
“Anyway, looks like Desmond is heading this way, so I think we need to go, Melanie,” Emily said. “Let’s give these lovebirds some much needed privacy.”
“Oh, stop it,” Sherita said.
“Don’t try to downplay it,” Emily told her. “We saw it with our own eyes, and you claim you don’t like Desmond…could’ve fooled me. It ain’t no telling what’s about to go down on Walnut Grove Lane tonight.”
Sherita waved them off. “See y’all later.”
When Emily and Melanie walked pass Desmond, he told the ladies to have a good night. Then he continued to where Sherita had been standing, opening the door for her like a gentleman. Once she was inside, he closed the door then walked back around, got inside and cranked the jeep. Instead of shifting the car in gear, he looked over at her.
“So that went well, didn’t it?” Sherita asked, looking over at him, then quickly looking away, unable to hold his intense gaze. She’d somehow reverted back to the timid woman she was before the dinner.
“Yeah. It did,” he said, evenly. With a clenched jaw, he shifted the car in gear and began the drive home. Confused. Sherita had been phenomenal at dinner. Anyone looking at them would have no doubt that they were a couple in love. She studied those notes she’d taken, knew her role and played it well. Too well. He wanted to believe that part of her kissing him had been real, that it was something she wanted to do and not something she felt she had to do. And that bothered him more than anything else. Being the man he was, since when did he care about whether or not a woman wanted to kiss him?
