by A. C. Arthur
As a matter of fact, at twenty-eight, living alone in a lovely Upper West Side apartment that she could now thankfully afford, she felt she’d finally arrived. She was perfectly content with her life just the way it was. Gone were the days when she longed for the company of a man, any man. Now she had work that occupied her mind.
Men were definitely off limits for her.
* * *
Cienna’s door was closed, so Reka knocked once before turning the knob to enter. She’d assumed Cienna was alone, so the gentleman sitting in the chair across from her desk was a slight shock. “Good morning,” she said cheerfully, and looked to Cienna before taking another step. Maybe she just wanted her to get a file or locate a report for this client. She could have simply told her that over the phone, but Reka had long since stopped trying to tell Cienna how to do her job.
“Good, you’re here. Shut the door and have a seat, please.” Cienna grabbed a stack of papers from her printer and barely looked up at Reka as she spoke.
Reka did as she was told. She sat in the chair next to the client. His scent hit her first.
Expensive, not musk—she hated musk—smooth, almost sensual, either Dolce & Gabanna or Escada. She liked them both, so it was only natural that she check out the man who was smart enough to wear them.
Uh oh! Big mistake! Colossal error!
He was fine. No, he was Fine, with a capital F. From the top of his close cut, dark wavy hair, down past that excellently cut designer suit—tailored for his muscular physique—to the shiny black tie ups, he was a mouth-watering creature.
She found her voice and decided to act like the educated professional she now professed to be. “Good morning,” she spoke clearly, without any hint that he’d roused hormones long dormant.
Khalil had just taken the stack of papers from Cienna and was about to flip through them when he heard her voice, which was just a trace shy of being husky, and a bit too sultry for an office worker at ten o’clock in the morning. He looked up at her, his mouth opened to speak. Then his eyes found hers and then his mouth closed abruptly—without releasing a word.
Reka raised her brows. Was he deaf, or just courtesy deficient? She couldn’t tell, but no matter how good he looked, that didn’t excuse rudeness. “It is a good morning, isn’t it?” She rephrased her question, hoping the cute dunce would pick up on her meaning.
She’d taken him off guard—or rather those slanted catlike eyes had. Re-grouping, he realized she was being smart with her latest statement and felt the urge to grin at her audacity. She hadn’t been rude, so there was no need for Cienna to reprimand her. To the contrary, that brandy-laced voice had been more than polite, more than cordial, and she’d even smiled when she’d finished, ensuring her comment wasn’t taken the wrong way, no doubt. Yet a flash of mischief in those alluring eyes told the true meaning. “It’s a fantastic morning—now.” He did smile at her then, curious as to what she’d say next.
Cienna, who had witnessed the exchange, decided she’d better speak up now before Reka lost her little bit of polish and reverted to her true form. “Khalil Franklin, this is my assistant, Reka Boyd. Reka, this is Khalil Franklin, our new IT supervisor.”
Reka sat back in her chair, a part of her breathing a sigh of relief that he wasn’t a client. She was always a little worried about how far her mouth went sometimes. Well, only in the workplace. After hours, it was on. Whatever came to mind inevitably came spilling out of her mouth, and she rarely felt any remorse. He was smiling at her, a damned sexy smile at that. Her eight-hour days might have just gotten a bit brighter, she thought.
Hold up! Wait a minute! Stop the presses!
She was not looking at him like that! It was not that type of party. He just looked like he could take a joke, like he was cool to hang around. It wasn’t like she wanted to get to know him better or anything like that. Because she didn’t.
His eyes absorbed her entire presence in one long, heart stopping, toe curling sweep and she swallowed hard.
She definitely didn’t.
“I look forward to working with you,” Khalil offered when it seemed he’d been successful in stopping her quick retorts. Still, he wanted to hear her speak again.
“And you will,” Cienna chimed in. “As my assistant, Reka knows just as much, if not more, about Sensuality, Inc., than I do. She can give you the rundown of the company as well as their new product line, since you think that’s the link to the emails.”
Cienna had given Reka the moments she needed to get herself together, and now she was ready to do business. Mr. Handsome was now Khalil Franklin, co-worker, computer guy, and she was Reka Boyd, paralegal, assistant. “Yes, the Naughty and Nice Collection is due to be released the week before Christmas. You think that has something to do with the pervert sending the suggestive emails?” Crossing her legs, she looked over at Khalil. That was a nice name, fitting for this nicely dressed, probably very intelligent man.
No, he wasn’t a man, he was the computer guy or IT something-or-other, she corrected herself.
Khalil had read only two or three of the email messages sent by the person known only as ‘Jack.’ He’d gotten a little background information from Cienna on the company that the messages originated from and figured that working for a high-end lingerie and sexual accouterment company had to make a person pretty damned horny on a regular basis. It didn’t surprise him someone had taken things to another level.
“Well, I have to admit that I’ve seen some of Sensuality’s lingerie so I know how it could pique a person’s interest, get their mind to wondering about things. I’m thinking that whoever is sending these messages has a lot on his mind right now.” Khalil put a rubber band around the thick stack of messages that he’d review once he got into his office at Page & Associates. He’d make a copy and take them to his real office later this evening and begin a series of separate scans as well. But first he needed access to Page & Associates’ system.
Reka chuckled. “The only thing on his mind is getting laid, and he doesn’t quite seem able to do that.”
“Reka,” Cienna began, but couldn’t help smiling herself. “I don’t care if he gets laid or not. I just want him to stop sending his sick little messages to my office. Khalil, do you think you can find out who’s sending these notes and make them stop?”
Khalil, who was desperately trying to squelch the effect Cienna’s enticing assistant was having on him, finally looked to his new boss in response. “I’ll find out who’s sending the messages. Then you can decide how to deal with him or her.”
“Her?” Reka asked. “Jack is definitely a man.”
Both Cienna and Khalil looked at her.
“How do you figure that? Just by the familiar male name?” Khalil questioned.
Reka stood, suddenly unable to keep still beneath this man’s…the IT guy’s intense gaze. She fiddled with her scarf again before letting her hands fall to her sides. “No, by the fact that he hasn’t figured out how to get Jill into his bed yet. You see, only a man would miss the obvious, sort of like how a dog continues to chase his own tail.”
Cienna shook her head, her fingers coming up to her temple. She knew that whatever Reka was about to say was going to be way over the top—that was just how Reka was. “Maybe we don’t need to hear your reasons for believing he’s a guy, Reka. We’ll just let Khalil do his job.”
Despite Cienna’s words, Khalil stood and faced Reka. Her pointed gaze made his blood pump hard, and he gripped the stack of papers a little tighter than necessary. In these few minutes he’d become more aware of this woman than any other female he’d ever met in his life. She was substantially shorter than he was, but then he stood six feet, four inches tall. He doubted if he was going to find many women he met eye to eye. Yet even with her small stature she emanated great strength and character, and he found himself more than a little curious to learn all he could about her. “It’s okay, Cienna. I’d like to hear Reka’s explanation.”
Reka didn’t miss that he’
d called her by her first name, nor did she miss how her pulse quickened when he did. But she could surely ignore both. “Men play the same tired games over and over again and then wonder why they can’t get a good woman. Dogs chase their tails day in and day out, still wondering why they never catch the damned thing.” When he didn’t respond, but only looked at her with a more heated expression, she put her hands on her hips. “If Jack were a woman she’d know just how to get her man to comply with her wishes, and therefore wouldn’t need to send these juvenile messages. Instead, Jack the man continues to ask advice for his inadequate love life. Advice that I doubt he’d take even if somebody gave it to him because the male ego won’t allow it. Jack has got to be a man, a lonely, misguided man.”
Khalil stood quietly resisting the urge to touch the smooth looking orange tinted skin at her cheek. Her hair was an intriguing mass of auburn curls swept into some sort of twist at the back with sexy strands hanging down around her neck. She held herself perfectly still, tilting her head just a bit to stare up at him.
Something about the way she was checking him out shook his usually solid control. He was a professional, a businessman, with a job to do. This little wisp of a woman shouldn’t have rattled him. Yet every time he watched those long-lashed lids close and re-open, that’s exactly what she did.
“You seem pretty well versed on the laws of men and women. I think you should be the one to go over these messages with me. You know, to find common links and match them up with possible culprits.”
Cienna stood, wanting this tense atmosphere lifted and taken immediately out of her office. She had enough to handle with the messages steadily coming in. The last thing she needed was Reka and Khalil going head-to-head as well. “That’s a fantastic idea. Reka, you could get your files on the Naughty and Nice Collection and join Khalil when he reviews the messages. There probably are lots of similarities and references to the collection. Compiling a list and narrowing it down to a few employees at Sensuality, Inc., shouldn’t be a problem.” At least she hoped it wouldn’t. “In any case, Khalil can come up with a firewall that will keep Jack from sharing his trials with us.”
Something told Reka working with Khalil was a bad idea. Still, her big mouth was about to sign a check she only prayed she’d be able to cash. “That’s fine. I’ll work with him. Men tend to think alike, so having a woman on the case might prove the best route.”
Khalil couldn’t help it. He threw his head back and laughed. He liked this woman. She was refreshing, so different from the women he was used to meeting. She said what she meant and he had a feeling she meant what she said. She was brutally honest. Something Sonya had definitely not been.
“Then it’s a deal. I’ll give you some time to get your files together and then you can meet me in my office,” he told her, even though he sensed she didn’t like being told what to do.
“Then that’s settled. You two are on the case. I’m depending on you to bring this to a timely close.” Cienna walked to the door and opened it. Reka gave her a blistering gaze on her way out.
“You know you can depend on me, Cienna.”
“I know, Reka.” She knew, all right. She knew that before the day was out she’d have to hear what Reka really thought of Khalil Franklin and her orders to work with him.
Khalil stared after Reka, his eyes undoubtedly drawn to the sway of those purple-clad hips. His blood, which had already been pumping way too fast, simmered and boiled. He straightened his tie when he caught Cienna staring at him. “Which way is my office?”
Cienna gave a knowing grin. “Blessedly, in the opposite direction of Reka’s.”
* * *
Reka had a file box full of correspondence and materials from Sensuality, Inc., going back to the first thing Cienna had done for the company, the articles of incorporation. From there she’d worked on their patents and advised Mr. Peterson on office policies. Just recently she’d taken on his messy divorce case. His wife was no fool; she wanted everything she had coming to her, and then some. So they’d begun the paper war, collecting and exchanging information with opposing counsel.
Mr. Peterson always shared his new product announcements with Cienna and she, in turn, forwarded them to Reka. Before returning to her office, Reka, with Tacoma’s help, brought the boxes of information from the workroom and placed them in the corner so they’d be accessible when she met with the IT guy.
Sitting behind her desk, she allowed herself five minutes to think about the IT guy. “Five minutes won’t hurt,” she mumbled. He was tall, oh so damned tall. Almost too tall, she thought with a frown. Considering she was barely five feet, two inches, just about any adult was tall to her. Yet when he stood in front of her, very closely in front of her, his height hadn’t seemed intimidating at all. To the contrary, it made her feel almost secure. As if he were a shield, offering her protection.
His skin reminded her of her favorite candy, Milk Maid Caramels. Even though she hadn’t touched him, his cheeks looked smooth. The lower half of his face was covered by a thin beard and mustache—so thin creamy-colored skin showed beneath the dark hair. His eyes were dark as they’d raked over her.
Lastly, because her five minutes were running out, his suit. Reka loved a man who could dress and, from the looks of his tailor-made suit, this brother definitely had good taste. The jacket had molded against his broad shoulders perfectly, the pants, pleated—men without pleats in their pants had serious fashion issues in her book—hung on his hips expertly, and the cuffed hem rested on those shiny shoes.
She twirled the ends of her scarf around her fingers and rocked in her chair. He was a good-looking specimen. If one were looking for a good looking specimen.
Which she definitely was not.
Donovan had been the last straw. Even thinking his name had her on the verge of screaming. His ultimate betrayal had hurt her one final, excruciating time and, from that moment nine months ago until now, she’d known that men were not in her immediate future.
Thank heaven her five minutes were over.
* * *
Something told him she wasn’t coming to his office. Maybe it was because of her generally defiant air or maybe because he’d practically ordered her to come. Either way, it had been forty minutes since he’d first laid eyes on her in Cienna’s office and she still hadn’t appeared.
Cienna had walked Khalil to his office, introducing him to other staff members along the way. He had a desk, a computer, a telephone and a separate fax machine. That was all he needed for the moment. He’d bring in his personal scanning equipment next week so he could link it to the Page & Associates network. But since today was Friday and they were just getting started, he’d go over the mountain of messages that had been sent so far.
But he didn’t want to do that alone.
Reka Boyd, Cienna’s assistant. She’d awakened something in him, something he hadn’t even known was there. Something about her spunky personality had unnerved him and, for some strange reason, he wanted to experience it again. He wanted to hear that voice that was so different from the sophisticated drawl he’d been used to hearing from the women he dated. She wasn’t street, yet she had a definite urban-ness that appealed to him.
And that body…Damn, the man who’d originally compared the female form to a Coca-Cola bottle would have had regular dreams about Reka. She was short and curvaceous and wore clothes that emphasized her attributes. He chuckled. Maybe he shouldn’t classify her as short. Petite probably sounded better to her. Even though she wore sizable heels, she’d still fallen well beneath his shoulders. But that hadn’t stopped her from eyeing him down and standing her ground.
Her opinions about the email stalker being a man had been humorous, even though he’d sensed she was dead serious, too serious, as if she’d had experience with immature, egotistical men. Or had she called them dogs? Either way, he was dying to hear more, to learn just how her mind worked. He hadn’t been this intrigued in a long while.
Where was she? He looked a
t his watch again, then decided she wasn’t coming. He grabbed the emails and made his way down the hall to her office. If Mohammed wouldn’t come to the mountain…
Reka was printing a particularly bothersome pleading that she’d been working on since the day before. She wanted to get it on Cienna’s desk for her review before she left today. She knew she had to meet with that IT guy and didn’t want this assignment to sit idle while she did. She’d just taken the papers from the printer and was about to staple them together when she heard a brief knock on her door, then watched as the door opened.
He leaned his long frame against the doorjamb. He’d removed his jacket, and she immediately noticed the bulging biceps as his shirt constricted. Beneath one arm he held a stack of papers she assumed were the infamous emails. The other hand was stuffed nonchalantly into his pocket. And he smiled.
Her breasts seemed to expand, her nipples hardening instantly, and her lips thinned in consternation. She’d given herself five minutes to think about his gorgeousness, but apparently that hadn’t been enough.
“I thought I was to come to your office,” she said tightly, looking away.
Khalil presumed that was all the permission he was going to get, so he entered her office and shut the door behind him. “You were taking too long.” Setting the papers on the edge of her desk, he took a seat.
“Impatient, are we?” She dropped the work she’d just finished into her out basket and cleared her computer screen.
She shifted in her chair, giving him a glimpse of her plump breasts against her blouse. With much effort he dragged his eyes back to her face. “I’d say anxious describes it better.”
He swept a dark gaze over her. No, it wasn’t a gaze—it was more like a caress and her heart thumped in her chest. For an instant she tingled beneath his scrutiny. Then thoughts of Donovan and his bold good looks resurfaced, and her resolve hardened. “Fine. The sooner we get this over with, the sooner we can both get on with other things.”
