Passionate Game (Kimani Hotties)

by Monkou, Michelle

  “Problem?” Grant looked at his employee.

  “Don’t worry. We’ll kick their butt,” Tamara said, attempting to alleviate the tension with bravado. She didn’t need the employees turning on her, especially since these might be the same men working with her teens.

  “Sorry, I didn’t mean to be rude,” Norton muttered. He shoved his hands into his pockets and continued to look uncomfortable.

  She playfully punched him on the arm and then leaned in close to whisper, “No worries. I know what a butt clencher it can be to spend the day with the boss.”

  He arched back to bark out a hearty laugh.

  In a snap, the tension dissipated like a ghostly vapor.

  They headed out to the parking area for the golf carts. Tamara figured that they must look like quite the colorful bunch, armed with sunglasses and toting the cumbersome golf bags.

  Clouds gathered overhead in thick billowy shapes of white and gray. Their low presence appeared ominous despite the meteorologist’s forecast of a sunny spring day. The crisp morning light was now muted, taking some of the edge off the rising temperature.

  “Do you play often?” Norton asked her, his voice lowered as they walked ahead of Grant and Hadfield.

  “Not really,” Tamara hedged. Running the academy didn’t allow for long hours on the golf course, or anywhere else. However, once she’d settled on the idea of using the country club as the location to approach Benson, she had made time to practice. Back in the day, when she’d been in college, she had been an avid golfer. But she’d keep that little nugget of info to herself.

  They teed off right on time. The game officially began with a couple of balls from the men heading off on a wayward slant. Slow and steady—her two favorite words—helped her. She swung and sent the ball in a high arc down the center. The good start buoyed her confidence.

  “What did you say your last name was?” Grant strolled up next to her.

  “Wendell.”

  “And you’re a member here?”

  She nodded. She didn’t have to be a rocket scientist to see that he was pulling as much information from her as he could to figure out whom he was dealing with.

  “Is your mother Trudy Wendell?”

  Tamara almost stumbled. How had he made the connection so quickly?

  “Yes.”

  “She’s been hounding me at church to hold computer tutorial classes.”

  Tamara laughed loudly. “She tried to get me to do that, too. Maybe I should have used her to make my proposal.”

  “When I beat you and your new buddy, Norton, you can run home to your mother. You will need her to get me to do anything.”

  “Oh, so you’re willing to play dirty mind games?”

  They locked eyes for a moment before Grant turned away to take his shot.

  Grant set up the next shot and hit the ball down the fairway. He didn’t even bother to follow the arc with a gaze. Instead, he tapped in the divot with his heel, adjusted his clothing and put on his shades.

  “Not bad. Let’s see if Hadfield can match his boss’s attempt.” Tamara gave a finger wave and a bright smile. She waited for Hadfield to get into position, then sidled close to him. “Don’t let Grant get inside your head,” she whispered.

  Hadfield stopped as the club was about to go on the upswing. His look of exasperation tickled her.

  On the other hand, Grant glowered. She appreciated the expression since his frustration caused wonderful machinations with his mouth. Would his lips feel as soft as they looked to the touch of her fingers, or to the touch of her lips? She licked her lips as if she could sense the pressure of his mouth closing over hers.

  Dang. The man had the power to make her hallucinate. She forced herself to snap out of it, and made her way over to the tee for her shot. She slowly and carefully set up her stance.

  “Is this waiting game part of the plan?” Grant interrupted.

  “It’s called strategizing.” She framed her gaze with her hand to shield her eyes. “You’ll see why in a second.” She wiggled her hips, keeping her feet apart and anchored. Her hands adjusted their grip around the club, opening and closing until she got it right.

  Once her arms and club were in alignment, she moved to the next point. In a smooth, fluid motion, her upper body twisted like a tight coil. Her natural flexibility kicked in. When she reached the point of no return, she unwound with a constrained yet powerful motion. Her golf club followed through, connecting to the small white ball. The solid sound of the impact gave her a heads-up that she had scored a good hit—another one.

  Holes three and four passed without any hitches. She’d gotten comfortable among the men, laughing at their jokes and exchanging a few of her own. This chance to meet and get to know the people who could mentor the teens couldn’t have been more valuable. They were out of the corporate offices, away from the formalities that would affect any natural conversation.

  Occasionally Tamara egged on Grant and Hadfield. But for the most part, she silently watched him interact with his junior team. His teaching method was patient and encouraged an unhurried approach to the problem.

  It took almost an hour before the men loosened up enough around Grant to respond without sounding like robots. What she noticed and admired was the fact that they had started out as two separate teams, but now the junior managers were coaching each other.

  Tamara stayed on the outside of the happy trio. Her growing admiration for the way Grant was coaching his employees went only so far. Her mission couldn’t be compromised by her admiration—or by her traitorous body, which seemed to be overdosing on Grant’s sexiness.

  To get what she wanted, she had to win this game—nothing less.

  Coming to the ninth hole, their scores were close. His continued goading irritated her like a scratchy sweater against her skin. His little annoyances and distractions were causing her to make silly mistakes. She was even more frustrated that she was allowing him to get under her skin.

  But what he didn’t know was that working under pressure excited her. And that more than anything, he excited her. She gave herself a pep talk.

  She wiped away the sprinkle of sweat from her brow. Time to get down to business. She had work to do. Her eyes were on the prize, and the prize was time with Grant Benson. Ten young men waited for good news. She couldn’t fail.

  She tried to remember the golf tips she’d known in college. Was it be one with the ball or with the swing?

  Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Grant’s mouth moving. They’d both been filling each other’s ears with trash talk, getting bolder as the hours wore on. She returned her focus to the ball, took a deep breath, drew back the club and exploded with a fast unwind that hit the ball low and straight. Her risky strategy should drop the ball a foot or so from the hole. Her plan was to make this a two-hitter into the hole.

  Divine intervention had other plans, however. The ball soared, and with missile precision it hit the green and rolled into the hole. A hole in one.

  Tamara couldn’t believe it. She dropped her club and raised her hand in fierce victory.

  Norton joined in with the noisy celebration. He whooped and jumped like a skittish colt in wide circles around his boss and colleague. They certainly weren’t expressing sportsmanlike conduct. But this accomplishment was too sweet for a variety of reasons, and Tamara didn’t care about etiquette. Her drive to win was as reckless as her plan to get face time with Grant had been.

  Hadfield didn’t look pleased, but he stayed as cool as his boss. Norton had now resorted to a few sloppy cartwheels. This time his teasing was solely at Hadfield’s expense. Tamara guessed the two had a fairly competitive streak between them.

  Grant, on the other hand, remained calm. Instead of the grimaces of frustration he’d had the whole game, he simply offered a golf clap or two. Then he
approached the ball for his turn and swung. The ball shot straight ahead but then took a sharp veer to the right.

  Game over.

  “Mr. Benson, I’d say we’ve got a few matters to discuss,” Tamara said with a smile.

  “I think after beating me, you can call me Grant.”

  “And what do your friends call you?” Tamara asked, feeling bold.

  “Are you proposing to be my friend?”

  Tamara looked up at him, shielding her eyes from the sun.

  “I’m just curious, that’s all.” She’d hold off on the friendship thing, for the moment.

  “Let’s see if we can cure that curiosity. I’m also Grant to my friends—new and old.”

  They headed back toward the clubhouse. Their pairing transitioned so that Tamara and Grant were walking together while Hadfield and Norton chatted amicably ahead of them. They walked side by side now, comparing notes about the latest goings-on in the community, the one common denominator between them.

  “How come I don’t see you around here?” Grant motioned toward the clubhouse.

  “I have a place in the city. I don’t like commuting.”

  “I recently bought a place here to get away from the ever-present paparazzi. My parents live with me.”

  “Oh, now that’s a twist.” Tamara waited for an explanation. The fact that he lived with his parents was a surprise. He was such a shadowy figure to pin down that picturing him hanging out with Mom and Dad in the family room didn’t fit the image she had of him.

  “They came kicking and screaming. I convinced them that the five-bedroom home was all theirs and that I’d move into the guesthouse on the premises.”

  “Okay, why on earth do you need such a place?” An over-the-top lifestyle didn’t come to mind when she thought of Grant—not that she was ready to admit that he did dwell on her mind.

  “This is a gift I’d promised myself I’d give them from the first day that my company opened. They’ve worked hard, sacrificed and never failed to show their love to my siblings and me. My mother loves to throw parties. She loves having her friends visit and stay. So, I gave her a house that is comfortable and inviting for her to enjoy. Plus it allows my father to disappear into one of the many rooms for his man cave.”

  “That’s pretty cool.”

  “My siblings also pop in with their kids, and believe me, that noisy set can have that house hopping.”

  “One day that may be you. When you have a family of your own, you can have it bouncing.”

  No way that Grant couldn’t easily find himself a bride. As he’d talked about his parents, he’d revealed how much of a family guy he was. However, she couldn’t picture whom he’d pick as his soul mate. But soaking up his gorgeous features, she had no desire to fill in that mental image, anyway.

  Tamara followed Grant to a table that overlooked the course. Hadfield and Norton had disappeared toward the bigger clubhouse, which housed the fancier restaurants. She opted for the simpler fare.

  The two restaurants in the smaller clubhouse catered to smaller groups and featured more of a deli menu. Since it was a weekday, the school-aged kids weren’t around, and most of the retired crowd ate at the bigger restaurants, avoiding the sandwiches and deep-fried menu. The place was practically empty.

  This venue was quieter, perfect. They could eat and get down to business. All she wanted was the time to deliver her request and get an immediate response. No candlelight suppers, no gourmet dining, no froufrou amenities as if this were a date.

  They placed their order at the counter and then headed to the seating area.

  Grant pulled out her chair. “Fat chance of me settling down,” he said, resuming the conversation.

  “Ever?”

  “That’s one thing I know for sure.”

  “Why? Because you’re not the type to be taken home to a mother?” Tamara hadn’t expected to get so personal, but she also hadn’t expected him to be so forthright about his private life.

  “Something like that. George Clooney is my role model. Eternal bachelor—live long and prosper, I say. Knock on wood.” Grant knocked on the tabletop three times. “He and I are in the same fraternity.”

  Tamara had no issues with his viewpoint. After all, she also didn’t want to be weighed down by any man—but it wasn’t a women’s liberation mind-set. She just figured that she could have the best of both worlds—like Oprah. Grant had his role model; she had hers.

  No man had managed to make his way to the forefront of her thoughts. Right now, only her academy and the youth she helped had her focus. If a man came along who earned a place in her priorities, then he’d have to accept her dedication to her career. She still noticed male eye candy, but most times she didn’t bother showing any signs of interest.

  Sitting across from Grant brought that smooth medium brown complexion face-to-face with her. He certainly could own the label of eye candy. Even his hands, with long, slender fingers, drew her attention. His bared, muscled forearms flexed and relaxed as he motioned. The man turned the computer nerd stereotype on its head.

  “I think our food is ready.” She pushed back her chair to stand with him, but he raised his hands. “I’ve got it.”

  She nodded and accepted the kind gesture.

  The more she talked to him, the less she wanted to see him just as eye candy. He had brains, and the fact that he had superhottie assets at the same time ratcheted up her approval ratings. The combination tickled her fancy, but she had no appetite for a little sample. What she wanted was to feast on his charisma, intelligence and physical strength. She knew she couldn’t excite her palate for a bigger helping of sexy. Though her private body parts wanted in on the negotiations, she wasn’t budging. Watching Grant and his succulent lips were as far as she was going with this fantasy.

  “Chicken salad sandwich for you. I got the kettle chips because it was slim pickings.”

  “That’s thoughtful.” She waited until he was seated and had opened the wrapping for his sandwich before she began eating.

  Tamara made small talk with Grant while they ate. She kept the topics away from her number one issue. Instead, they shared stories about living with aging parents. His parents honestly drew her interest; they sounded lively and fun-loving. Listening to his childhood antics with his siblings drew her laughter.

  Eventually, they couldn’t avoid the bigger issue.

  Grant pushed aside his plate and leaned on his elbows. “I’m ready. Bring it on.” He beckoned with his hand.

  “All right, let’s get down to business. I know you have other pressing engagements to attend to.”

  Grant nodded. The mischievous twinkle in his eye slid away to be replaced by a speculative gaze.

  * * *

  Grant prided himself on being organized and meticulous about his schedule. But his entire day up until this moment had had an off-kilter feel to it. As much as the unknown gave him indigestion, he had tried to go with the flow. That’s what his sister always preached. He was too uptight. He needed to relax. Her last bit of advice wasn’t appreciated when she’d said that the lack of a special someone in his life was messing with his chi. He hated when she got all metaphysical because she had a way of messing with his mind. As the youngest of three siblings, she didn’t play by the rules, tricky little monster.

  The day was past the halfway mark and the off-kilter feeling hadn’t ended with the sexy presence of Tamara Wendell in front of him. Because he had lost to her golf skills, he couldn’t walk away and pretend that he was unmoved by her charisma.

  “I’m listening,” he prompted.

  “As I’ve said, I’m the owner of New Horizons Leadership Academy, which works with the Miller-Brown Home for Boys. These are young men at critical junctions in life. Their run-ins with the law range from repeated trespasses after dark in city parks, to
constantly fighting in school, to shoplifting at the local malls. They are faced with a future where communities are ready to lock them up and throw away the key. I eventually hope to expand my networks with other juvenile facilities, but for now, I’ve been working with them for the past two years.”

  “Noble. So, how are you funded?” Confusion deepened on Grant’s face.

  “Grants and private donations. I don’t take a salary, therefore I can hire the best and the hardest-working people.” A look of determination crossed her face. “We’re a small team, but we’re efficient and productive.”

  “And how do I fit in with all this? Yes, I run a company. I have a decent-sized staff. But, I have project deadlines to meet. You’re asking me to take on a couple kids—”

  “More like ten—”

  “Ten! What the heck?” Grant waited for her to laugh and say that she was joking.

  “Shh. Stop acting as if that’s a problem. You can spread them around the company.” Her defense came at him in a passionate wave.

  Her intensity caused his eyebrow to pop up with surprise.

  “Is this how you go about getting them jobs?” Those big brown eyes coaxed him just as hard as her soft, determined voice did. He found her presence to be dangerous to his resistance.

  “Well, no. I’ve never had so many kids who couldn’t be placed.”

  “What’s wrong with them?” He frowned, waiting to hear some outrageous explanation.

  “Nothing is wrong with them. They need a second chance.” Tamara’s chin raised a notch. Her entire body bristled under his question.

  “Uh-oh, now you’re killing me.” Grant shook his head.

  “Let me explain. These kids are difficult to place because of their juvenile records. However, the counselors and I believe that they are exceptional because their aptitude for learning is off the charts. And that’s a good thing.”

  “But if they have antisocial behavior, you want me to risk my company and my employees with volatile kids who don’t give a darn about anyone but themselves?” Grant pursed his lips. He hadn’t meant to raise his voice.