by Pamela Yaye
Within minutes, the plane was at cruising altitude, flying high above the clouds. Watching Markos on the sly, Tatiyana considered introducing herself, but sensed it wasn’t the right time. He opened his briefcase, took out a leather-bound notebook and flipped it open. Pen in hand, he wrote furiously, only stopping to tell the flight attendant what he wanted to drink. “I’ll have a coffee with a double shot of Bailey’s, two sugars and a dash of espresso.”
Sensing this was the opportunity she’d been waiting for, Tatiyana spoke up. “I’ll have the same, but with a double shot of espresso.”
Markos glanced to the right, staring intently at her. Tatiyana wanted to introduce herself, but she couldn’t get her mouth to work. Remembering what was at stake, she conquered her nerves and offered her hand in greeting. “Hi,” she said, wearing her brightest, most dazzling smile. “I’m Tatiyana Washington.”
He nodded but didn’t speak. Jerk, she thought, put off by his cold demeanor. Markos gave her a blank look, making her feel small and insignificant, and Tatiyana wished her happy-go-lucky self hadn’t introduced herself first. Sensing some reserve in his manner, she toned down her excitement and spoke in a softer, quieter voice. “And you are—” she prompted.
“Working,” he snapped.
Embarrassed, her cheeks flushed with heat, she forced an apologetic smile onto her lips. “Not a problem. Sorry for bothering you—”
“Thanks.” Returning to his document, he picked up his fancy diamond pen and resumed writing, scowling as if she was a pesky fly he couldn’t get rid of.
Shocked by his rudeness, Tatiyana realized she’d never disliked anyone more than the curt divorce attorney, and made up her mind to get even with him before Flight 74 landed in Tampa. Deciding to play it cool, Tatiyana slipped on her sunglasses and settled back into her seat, pretending Markos didn’t exist. It didn’t work. She couldn’t stop stealing glances at him, watching him on the sly as he typed, and when their arms inadvertently touched and desire exploded inside her, Tatiyana feared she didn’t stand a chance against Markos Morretti.
Chapter 2
Markos Morretti glanced around the first-class cabin, searching for an empty seat, but couldn’t find one anywhere. Dannazione, he thought, dragging a hand through his short, black hair. I’m screwed. He had motions to read and depositions to write, but everything about his seatmate was a distraction. Her floral fragrance, her bubbly, effervescent vibe, how she danced around in her seat to the music playing in her pink earbuds, her pretty, melodious voice.
Staggered by her beauty, all Markos could do was stare. She was stunning, well-put together in a white shorts set, bejeweled sandals, and a gold ankle bracelet that drew his gaze to her silky, brown legs. Her outfit screamed, “Look at Me,” and Markos did. He couldn’t stop undressing her with his eyes. He had an erection growing inside his boxer briefs, and the dark-skinned beauty was the reason why. What’s wrong with me? Why am I sweating a woman who looks like trouble? Who’s probably broken hearts in every state?
Markos felt guilty for snapping at her, but he couldn’t bring himself to apologize. It wasn’t Tatiyana’s fault he had a heavy caseload and an incompetent paralegal. The motion was riddled with spelling mistakes, and he had no choice but to revise the document Izzy had written. He made a mental note to have a stern talk with her when he returned to LA on Monday. He’d hired her as a favor to her mother but regretted it the first time Izzy Braunstein waltzed into his office an hour late, complaining about her boneheaded boyfriend.
Telling himself not to worry about it, Markos shook off his negative thoughts. His job was challenging, fast-paced and stressful at times, but he was a damn good attorney, and he was proud of his winning record. He spent his days meeting with potential and existing clients, drafting court documents, consulting with his staff and going to court. Although Markos loved his job, he needed a break. His brothers and cousins were en route to the Oasis Spa and Resort as well, and he was looking forward to their guys-only weekend.
Markos picked up his notebook determined to finish his work. Hired to represent the biggest pop star on the planet in her divorce, Markos knew the high-profile case could increase his popularity, and devoted all of his free time to plotting and strategizing how to win. The divorce proceedings had dragged on for eighteen long months, and he was growing tired of the case. But when he got into a heated argument with the opposing counsel in June, and the jerk threw a cup of water in his face, resulting in a courthouse brawl, Markos vowed to crush his opponent no matter the cost. His critics called him ruthless, claimed he was motivated by money, fame and power, but Markos didn’t care. He was a Morretti, and Morrettis ignored what the haters said. He gave a 100 percent to every case, regardless of his client’s net worth, and refused to let anyone outsmart him in court.
Like his thoughts, his eyes wandered to Tatiyana, instead of his notes. Tatiyana met his gaze, stared right at him. Sparks flew, proving their chemistry was real, and not a figment of his imagination. Markos felt an immediate attraction to her, a spark that couldn’t be denied, and struggled to keep his hands in his lap and off her curves. His gaze dipped from her face to her cleavage, resting at her bosom. Her animal-print scarf gave her ensemble a touch of class, but he fantasized about her naked, on his lap, riding him—
She sang in a low voice, snapping her fingers, rocking her body from side to side.
Markos plucked at his striped shirt. Dancing around in her seat, having a party for one, Tatiyana reminded him of a video vixen in a music video. Too bad she was probably high maintenance. One look at Tatiyana told Markos everything he needed to know. Skilled at reading people, he suspected she was materialistic and decided to keep his distance. Markos didn’t want what Tatiyana was offering. He was tired of women throwing themselves at him, and wished he could meet someone who didn’t want anything from him.
Still, he was intrigued and couldn’t stop staring at her.
“Excuse me.” Standing, Tatiyana stepped past him, heading up the aisle as if it were her own personal runway. Her scent overpowered his senses, sending his thoughts into overdrive. Leaning to the right, he admired her captivating strut, curious if she had a boyfriend.
His eyes flickered over her curves, cruising down her hips with deliberate intent. She strode toward the lavatory, giving him a terrific view of her from behind, tempting him to break the rules. Sweat clung to his skin, drenching the back of his short-sleeve shirt. Long after Tatiyana disappeared into the bathroom, he was thinking about her—her smoky eyes, her toned, slender shape, her mesmerizing walk, how her aura and physical beauty drew him in.
“Sir, are you finished with your lunch? I hope everything was to your liking...”
Markos straightened and regarded the flight attendant, hoping she didn’t see him ogling Tatiyana’s backside. “Yes, thanks, everything was great.”
To get his mind off Tatiyana, Markos stared out the window. The sky was clear, powder blue, and instantly calmed his mind. Hanging out with the guys was the perfect antidote for his stress. These days, all Markos did was work, and he couldn’t remember the last time he’d cut loose. He had an active social life, but none of the women he was dating excited him. He kept females at a distance, hadn’t gotten close to anyone since Emme left, and didn’t plan to. Thoughts of his ex-girlfriend flooded his mind, and Markos wondered if the pain in his heart would ever subside.
Someone whistled, drawing Markos’s gaze to the front of the plane. Tatiyana was back, a sight to behold with that radiant, effervescent smile. A child raced up the aisle, slamming into Tatiyana, and she rocked back onto her heels. She dropped her purse, and its contents spilled onto the floor, flying everywhere.
Unbuckling his seat belt, Markos bent and picked up the items at his feet, handing them to her. Their fingers touched, brushing ever so lightly against each other. Tatiyana thanked him, but he could see the contempt on her face and
knew she had her guard up. Her eyes bored into him, leaving him feeling vulnerable, exposed, as if she could see into his soul.
After he helped her pick up her stuff, she sat down, picked up the book on her seat and flipped it open.
“Italy for Dummies?” he said, unable to hide his amusement. “Are you planning a trip to Italy in the near future?”
To his surprise, she didn’t acknowledge him or respond to his question.
“I’m Markos Morretti.”
Tatiyana stared at his outstretched hand, as if it was covered in germs, and raised her book in the air. “I don’t mean to be rude, Mr. Morretti, but as you can see I’m very busy.”
“I deserve that. I was rude earlier, wasn’t I?”
“Yes,” she replied, vigorously nodding. “You were.”
“I’m sorry. I’m working on an important disposition, and sometimes when I get caught up in a case I lose sight of everything else.”
“Then why are you wasting your time talking to me?”
“Spending time with a vivacious woman is never a waste of time,” he said smoothly. “And I’m curious to hear about your trip to Italy.”
“Why? Do you moonlight as a travel guide when you’re not in court?”
“I do for beauties with freckles.”
He smiled when Tatiyana laughed.
Her bracelets clanged as she swept a hand through her hair. The words Sister’s Keeper were tattooed on the inside of her wrist in small, fine script, and Markos was curious about the intricate design. “That’s an interesting tattoo. Are you a twin?”
“No.” The light in her eyes dimmed. “My sister’s five years younger than me, but I’ve always taken care of her and I always will. She’s my heart.”
“I feel the same way about my siblings. I’d do anything for them,” he said, meaning every word. “Are you from LA, or just passing through?”
“I was in town visiting relatives,” she explained. “I’m originally from Bridgeport.”
Markos saw a message pop up on his iPad, guessed it was one of his clients, but ignored it. He wanted to know more about Tatiyana, not read emails. “Have you been to Tampa before? Or is this your first time?”
“No, never, but Dalton loves the city, so I’m in good hands.”
“Dalton? Is that your husband?”
“No, my best friend. We met in college, and we’ve been inseparable ever since.”
Suspicious, Markos probed further. “And you’re sure he’s not your man?”
“I’m positive,” she said, giving him a puzzled look. “Why don’t you believe me?”
“Because you’re stunning, and I bet men chase you down for your number 24/7.”
“You’re quite the charmer, Markos. Doesn’t Mrs. Morretti mind you flirting with other women? I would if you were my man.”
If you were my wife, I wouldn’t need anyone else. He dismissed the outrageous thought with a shake of his head and answered her question. “I’m not married. Law is my first and only love, and that will never change.”
“Spoken like a true attorney,” she teased.
“Are you a model?”
“No, I’m an executive secretary at Pinnacle Microsystems.”
Impressed, he nodded. “Great company. I have several friends at Pinnacle. Do you know anyone in the marketing department?”
“No, it’s a huge company, and I like to keep to myself. I’m super busy with school right now, so I don’t have time to socialize with my colleagues outside of work.”
“What are you studying?”
“I’d love to work in the non-profit field as a program director or manager, so I decided to get my business degree,” she explained. “But enough about me. Let’s talk about you. Are you traveling to Tampa for work or pleasure?”
“Hopefully, both. Are you free tonight?”
“No. We’re going to the R&B Summer Jam at Applause Nightclub, but you’re more than welcome to join us. Divas are performing, and I can’t wait to see them perform live!”
“Who?”
A puzzled expression wrinkled her features. “The female rap group?”
“Sorry. Never heard of them.”
“Are you kidding me? Were you living under a rock in the nineties?”
“No, in Italy,” he explained, warding off bitter memories. “My parents separated, and my brothers and I went to live with my grandparents until the divorce was finalized.”
“That must have been a very difficult for you. I grew up without a father, so unfortunately I know what it’s like to experience hard times. It’s tough.” Her expression was sympathetic. “But don’t worry. I’ll buy you their greatest hits album for Christmas!”
Markos laughed out loud. He liked her. What wasn’t to like? A ball of energy, she was able to capture his attention despite everything he had on his mind. As expected, Tatiyana was far more interesting than his paperwork. She regaled him with stories about her childhood, her love of pop culture and her small, close-knit family.
“Where are you staying this weekend?” he asked. “With your friend, or at a hotel?”
“Dalton lives in Orlando, so we’re staying at the Oasis Spa and Resort. It’s the Rashawn Bishop Charity Golf tournament, and I’m going to win it all. Just watch me.”
Markos admired her confidence. Tatiyana was as witty as she was beautiful, and he had to see her again. “Small world. I’m staying at the same resort, and I’m also attending the tournament.”
“Then we’ll be seeing each other a lot this weekend. Should be fun.”
“Let’s exchange numbers. Maybe we can have a drink one night.”
“I’d like that. You seem like a cool guy, and I have a feeling Dalton’s sister is going to love you. She loves Italian men, especially handsome ones.”
Markos groaned, hanging his head as if overcome with despair. And he was. Sick of people hooking him up. He wished they’d quit sending needy, marriage-crazed females his way, and leave him alone. “I have the worst luck. I can’t go anywhere without someone trying to set me up.”
“Trust me, I’m an expert at reading people, and Genevieve is exactly your type.”
Amused, a grin tugged at his lips. “What’s my type?”
“Smart, independent and successful, right?”
“You certainly fit the bill.”
“I’m looking for Mr. Right—”
“Look no further. I’m right here.”
Tatiyana scoffed, with a loud, sarcastic laugh. “That’s what they all say until someone younger and prettier with bigger boobs comes along.”
“I’m not a player. Never have been. I’m an honest, upstanding guy who enjoys long walks in the park, shopping on Rodeo Drive, dining at five-star restaurants and Jill Scott.”
“Good God,” she said, her tone filled with awe. “You are my dream guy!”
Her girly, high-pitched giggles filled the air. Markos sensed her interest in him and knew he was saying and doing all the right things to impress her. He’d score her cell phone number by the time they landed in Tampa, and a date, no doubt about it.
They talked nonstop during the in-flight movie, laughing and cracking jokes. They had a lot in common, but what shocked Markos most were her insightful comments about the business world, her knowledge of Wall Street and politics.
“To be honest, I don’t put much faith in politicians,” Tatiyana confessed. “They’ll say and do anything to get elected, but once they’re in office, they forget about the promises they made to their loyal constituents. We need leaders who’ll stand with the American people, and unite the country, not divide it.”
“That’s a tall order, don’t you think?”
“No. If the government invests in education and health care, and provides better training to
police departments, I think things would drastically improve. Especially for lower-income families and impoverished communities.”
“Well said, Tatiyana. I wholeheartedly agree.” Markos raised an eyebrow. “Are you sure you’re an executive secretary? If I didn’t know better I’d think you were a community activist.”
Tatiyana smiled, and Markos did, too.
“It’s hard to believe we just met. I feel like we’ve known each other forever. It’s so easy to talk to you.”
“I was thinking the same thing,” he confessed, echoing her thoughts.
“It feels like we’re old friends catching up at our high-school reunion.”
“That’s because you’re an exceptional conversationalist. You’re articulate, well-read, and you have an opinion about everything.”
Tatiyana frowned, arching an eyebrow. “Is that your way of saying I talk a lot?”
“No, that’s my way of saying I’d like to see you again.”
The flight attendant appeared. “Can I interest either of you in a glass of Cabernet Sauvignon?”
“Absolutely.” Tatiyana helped herself to a flute from the flight attendant’s tray, two bowls of nuts and a warm hand towel. “Thanks, Miss, I’ll buzz you if I need something else.”
“And you, Mr. Morretti?”
“I shouldn’t. It’s too early in the day to be drinking.”
“Get one,” Tatiyana urged. “You only live once, right?”
“It does smell good,” he conceded, licking his lips, his mouth wet with anticipation.
“It tastes even better...”
Markos swallowed hard. He couldn’t stop thinking about kissing her, and wondered if her lips tasted as good as they looked.
“It’s not going to kill you to have one drink,” she said, popping a cashew into her mouth. “Everything in moderation. That’s my personal philosophy, and it governs everything I do.”
