Taming Mr. Jerkface (The Taming Series Book 1)

by Nia Arthurs

  Spencer grinned, ducking his head as he sorted through the folders on his desk to pull out my papers, which were easy to identify because they were full of doodles. I am a chronic Doodler. Sue me.

  “I know Veggietales.” He confessed.

  “Don’t tell me. You’re a Larry the Cucumber kind of guy, aren’t you?”

  He smirked, “You’re a Junior the Asparagus. I can see it all over you.”

  I gasped, “I am not. I’m the cute little carrot, the female one.”

  Spencer shook his head, “Nah, you’re Junior. Always getting into trouble even though you’re trying to do the right thing.”

  Slight annoyance pricked me at his arrogant assessment. I returned the favor. “Well, Larry the Cucumber’s always making up silly songs so … I guess…You can’t sing either.”

  Dang it! I had to get better at this smack talk thing.

  “Don’t take this the wrong way, but you crack me up.”

  “What other way does one take a comment like that?”

  He shrugged, “I don’t know. But I think you should leave the Doodling to the Vegetables. I mean, they don’t have hands and they get better sketches than this.”

  I laughed, “For your information that’s how I found you this morning?”

  “Mmhm?” Spencer sat on the edge of his desk, “Yeah, what was the deal with this morning?”

  I explained how I’d drawn a caricature of his likeness and brought it to the Information desk, skimming over Ms. Sunshine’s reaction to my request that she give me the information on him.

  He grinned, “Oh yeah, the place where I work has stricter security enhancers because we deal with technology patents. She should have just explained that to you.”

  “Well, she preferred that Simon explain things to me. Outside. But when I saw you, I had to get to you so I ran away.”

  “Simon’s the guy that tasered you right?” Spencer blew out a breath, “Mein, that guy had it in for you. You’re a slip of a thing. That was not necessary.” Spencer railed.

  I grimaced, “Uh, actually Simon and I had a complicated five second relationship. Things didn’t end well.”

  “Why? What’d you do to him?”

  I looked at the ceiling to avoid eye contact, “I elbowed him in the Willy Wonka,”

  “Willy Wonka… Willy Wonka?” Then understanding dawned in Spencer’s eyes and he started to laugh so hard, he wilted against the table.

  “It’s not funny!” I protested, but his laughter was infectious.

  “My God, remind me not to ever get on your bad side.”

  “You’re terrible,” I shook my head as Spencer calmed himself.

  “That explains quite a lot actually. You scared me at first you know? I thought I should beware of your gun, but now I know I should be more scared of what you can do to mine.”

  “Okay, okay, enough.” I insisted. “It’s your fault too. You saw me coming and you didn’t say anything.”

  “Correction, I saw a madwoman being pursued by two security guards, launching herself at me. What did you expect me to do?”

  “Point taken, sir. But I resent the madwoman jab.”

  “My apologies,” he said, still smiling, “You’re quite the character.”

  “Trust me honey, there’s never a dull moment.”

  My phone pinged at that moment. It was Missy.

  WHATS TAKING SO LONG, the text read. I glanced at the time and groaned.

  “What’s wrong?” Spencer asked as he handed me the intel. Honestly, it still felt weird having the attention of this extremely attractive man. He didn’t seem to mind my mouth’s temporary hiatus from the brain filter. His good humor put me a bit more at ease. And he knew Veggietales. He couldn’t be a serial killer and be familiar with Veggietales.

  “I need more time to write up these reports and get back to the office by two oclock.” It was already twelve. I couldn’t formulate my summaries and ride through downtown L.A. traffic in time to make it. If this was Belize where everything was within walking distance it would have been possible.

  Stupid traffic.

  Spencer looked thoughtful, “Who are you working for?”

  “Maladon Resorts,” I answered guilelessly, internally freaking out about the time thing. Spencer nodded once and then excused himself, leaving me alone in the office. I took that opportunity to walk back to the waiting hall and face a rather put out Missy.

  “Were you making the notes in there?” Missy complained.

  “It was barely fifteen minutes,” I volleyed back.

  She huffed but remained silent. I wondered if cabs passed this way. I didn’t expect Spencer to escort us all the way back to L.A. right now. If this were Belize, I could have called up a number of reliable taxi men on speed dial.

  Spencer walked back into the room. I could feel him before I saw him. Weird. My period must be on its way.

  “I called Mr. Thomas. The meeting’s been rescheduled to tomorrow at nine.”

  Missy and I shared confused glances.

  “What?” I asked stupidly.

  Again that ghost smile appeared.

  “You should be getting a call from his secretary any moment now.”

  Like magic, Missy’s phone rang and she walked off a ways to answer it.

  “Yes. Yes, I understand. Thank you.”

  The conversation was brief but succinct. “He’s right,” Missy confirmed, “It is at nine.”

  Why did he do that? I wondered. And what kind of power did this man yield that he could simply meddle in the business affairs of multi-million dollar corporations?

  He winked. Spencer Braden winked at me. My cheeks flushed. Thank God my skin color hid my embarrassment.

  “You can work from here. I’d be honored if you’d stay for lunch. Both of you.” He glanced quickly at Missy, but kept his eyes mostly trained on me.

  “I don’t know.”

  “Yes,”

  Missy and I blurted at the same time.

  “Excellent!” Spencer ignored my opinion and embraced Missy’s. “You’re free to use my office!”

  I struggled to come up with an excuse to leave. Spencer Braden was a gorgeous man and I always managed to put my foot in my mouth whenever I was around him. I did not want any more opportunities to eat sock lint.

  “Don’t you have to go back to work?”

  “Nope. I got the afternoon off.” And to punctuate his statement, Spencer loosed his tie. The man looked even more scrumptious now. Whoa, I wanted a job where I could take afternoons off.

  “Relax, Melody. Come and get your work done.” Lightly grasping my palm, Spencer led me back to his office. I have no idea if Missy followed, though she probably did. My arm was exploding with sensations as if I’d fallen asleep on it and it was just waking up.

  “I don’t know if this is a good idea.” I hedged, trying to plant my feet in the whirlwind that is Spencer Braden.

  My tugging boat stopped and bent his head slightly to peer into my eyes, Missy bumped me from behind and Spencer caught me securely in his grasp when I stumbled forward, “You can trust me.” he stated with confidence.

  “Words come cheap, mister,” I returned.

  “Mine don’t. I always keep my word.”

  “How do I know that?”

  He shrugged and righted me. “I guess you’ll just have to trust me.”

  “I trust you!” Missy shouted, slipping in front of me and raising her hand like she had the right answer in class and needed the teacher to pick on her or else she’d burst.

  Spencer hooked a thumb in her direction, “See, she trusts me.”

  I walked past Missy and patted Spencer on his shoulder.

  “I’m sorry, buddy, but that doesn’t help your cause.”

  Walking ahead, I picked my way back to the beautifully book-shelved office. Trust was earned, not granted. In the meantime, I’d figure out if and when he’d earned that right all on my own.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Spencer had a live-in
cook and caretaker. He’d casually informed me that she lived in a guest house on the property and that she would also be preparing lunch. He then ushered himself out of his office and left Missy and I alone. I had no idea where he disappeared to but I felt the loss keenly. Strange.

  Missy’s job description at the Tourism Board was so vague that our normal procedure included me doing all the work and Missy memorizing the information like she did her speeches. The girl could deliver boardroom presentations with flawless efficiency. I had to give her props. She had a way with a crowd. Today, however, Missy had other things on her mind.

  As I sat in the swivel chair and typed, Missy kept interrupting my mojo.

  “So do you think he has a type?” she asked me, thoughtfully. I paid no heed to her musings and typed:

  THE NATION OF BELIZE…

  “He looks like he has a type.” Missy interrupted.

  I ignored her.

  IS POISED TO BECOME AN INTERNATIONAL LOCALE FOR NICHE MARKET TOURISM…

  “Because I feel like maybe he likes tall girls, you know? And I’m only 5”7’.”

  I said nothing.

  BELIZE’S NATURAL ASSETS, DEVELOPMENT POLICIES AND PRO-BUSINESS INVESTMENT CLIMATE…

  “But he also looks like a player, don’t you think Melody? Kind of sleazy if you ask me.”

  HAVE CREATED AN IDEAL DESTINATION FOR INVESTORS…

  “I mean the way he looks at you; he’s obviously playing on your naiveté.”

  LOOKING TO DIFFERENTIATE BASED ON QUALITY…

  Say what now?

  “What do you mean ‘my naiveté’?”

  Missy hopped off the desk and sank into the wicker back chair facing me,

  “Don’t think I’ve missed the way you’re flirting with him and the way you threw yourself into his arms just now. I thought you were a church girl! Isn’t there a rule about chastity or something?”

  I gritted my teeth. “I’ve already explained this to you, Missy. I’m not a church girl; I’m a kingdom citizen-”

  “Yeah, yeah.” Missy waved her hand to offset my lecture on the differences between religion and the Kingdom that Jesus came to the earth to establish. “The point is your behavior is kind of sinful if you ask me.”

  Nobody asked you. I thought sourly. As far as my conscience, I had done nothing wrong. Sure I felt an attraction to Spencer. I was human after all. And if any flirting had occurred, it sure wasn’t intentional. Unless the new definition of flirting is being a complete whack job in front of hot guys. The only reply Missy received from me was silence. This wasn’t the first time the Queen had tried to probe me into a cat fight. If I didn’t enjoy my job so much, I would have risen to the challenge. But I’d learned long ago that no one argument was worth what I could potentially lose. It had been a long journey to be where I was today.

  From a young age, I’d known I loved to read. My mother spent a fortune on books until the Kindle came out. She’d promptly gifted me the device and given me all permission to pursue my obsession. My family was by no means wealthy and sometimes, we couldn’t afford to buy books. When I’d read and reread all the interesting and age appropriate novels in my library, I turned to writing my own little short stories. When I graduated sixth form two years ago with an Associates in Literature, I wasn’t sure what to do with myself. I applied for the college of my dreams, UWI and was accepted. I then put all my effort into getting a scholarship. Any kind of scholarship would have been a blessing, but nothing came through. At the end of the day, I wrote my non-acceptance letter to the school. Without funding, I couldn’t afford to go.

  I was sulking around the house eating Oreo’s in my bathrobe one day, hairy pits and unwashed body scent piping the air, when my mom lovingly slapped a newspaper in my lap.

  “I think a door’s opening,” she said, pointing to an ad in the paper for writers to apply for the Belize Tourist Board Public Relations position. I’d applied and was now rounding my second year. I loved my job. I got to travel, meet important people, and write all about it. Just like a government paid blogger.

  There was no way that Missy and her attitude would mess that up for me. No matter how much she tried to dog me into a fight I knew what I could lose. Plus, she was wrong about this one. Spencer liked being around me because I made him laugh. It didn’t go any further than that. I didn’t dignify her cattiness with a response.

  After a few minutes of my silence, Missy got up in a huff and stormed out of the office, leaving me in a sea of blissful silence. Without her annoying dialogue, I finished the report in 45 minutes, emailed it to my superiors in Belize and printed it out. Feeling accomplished, I padded outside and looked for either Missy or Spencer.

  The floor was cold against my bare feet. I had slipped off my zebra strappy heels in order to fit comfortably in Spencer’s swivel chair. As I wandered, I admired the artwork hanging on the walls. The paintings took my breath away. Mr. Braden had at least five award winning Alexis Arthurs’ paintings framed on his walls. My favorite was of a little Indian girl playing with clay. She had a huge smile on her face, despite the poverty all around her. I admired the way the artist captured that moment in time so effectively that if I listened closely, I could hear the breath of a giggle echoing in the silence. The piece was amazing. And probably very expensive. I couldn’t imagine living amidst such excess. I couldn’t imagine living alone with such excess. A thought hit me. It must be very lonely being in such a big house all alone.

  My mind flitted to my family back home. Sure we didn’t own resort worthy houses or inspiring art work, but we were happy. We made it through whatever life hit at us because we were together. With my family, I never had to guess. I knew for sure that I was loved. I wondered if Spencer had ever known for certain that he was loved. He hadn’t mentioned a single family member since I’d met him, though he’d mentioned the nanny that had introduced him to Veggietales and a caretaker.

  Lost in my browsing, I stumbled into the object of my thoughts.

  “We have to stop meeting like this.” I said.

  Spencer rumbled, “I’m not complaining.”

  I extricated myself from his grasp, recalling his harsh words from our initial collision.

  “You did yesterday.” With all the sensations and electricity flowing between us, I’d pushed yesterday’s encounter from my mind. But I couldn’t let go of my first impression. This man was a jerk, and according to Missy (who had a ton more worldly wisdom than me), he was also a player. And why not? He certainly had the looks for it. I couldn’t fall for this sensitive nice guy act. I was smarter than that.

  At the bite in my words, Spencer’s eyes did that smolder thing again. I had to steel myself to remain unaffected by it. He crossed his arms in front of his broad chest and leaned casually against the wall.

  “You want an apology,” he said it like a statement, like he knew me from Adam.

  I mirrored his crossed arms and stood my ground, “I deserve an apology.” I corrected.

  The ghost smile played on his lips. “So do I,”

  I gaped at him. Of all the pigheaded things…

  “Why the heck would I owe you an apology?”

  “You bumped into me, Melody. And you haven’t apologized either.”

  This man was crazy. I threw my hands in the air in a show of surrender.

  “Okay, fine. I’m sorry.” Before Spencer could get too cocky, I added, “I’m sorry I ever had the displeasure of knocking into you, Spencer Braden!”

  Like a little girl, I stomped my foot once and stalked away. Only, I didn’t get very far. Spencer’s long-legged stride quickly ate up the distance between us.

  “Such a temper you have, Melody.”

  I narrowed my eyes, “Don’t patronize me.”

  He bent to gaze into my eyes so I could read his sincerity.

  “I’m not. You…” he fingered a tendril of hair that had come undone, “fascinate me.”

  “I fascinate you.” I scoffed at his words, stepping away so the curl f
ell from his hand and bounced against my shoulder, “Like the monkey exhibit at the zoo? Like a weird contortionist person? Like a-”

  I shook my head and kissed my teeth. This guy… unbelievable. I stepped away.

  Spencer grasped my hand before I could get too far.

  “No, you fascinate me,” he paused, “Like a Caribbean sunrise in my favorite painting,” he indicated the Alexis Arthurs artwork, depicting a sun bursting with color and energy. He leaned in, lowering his voice so I had to draw closer to hear him, “Like a spring rain in a draught.” He moved even closer, inching me backward, “Like a shooting star.”

  My breath hitched. Dayum, this man was a poet. His lips traced from my temple to my ear. I shivered.

  Whoa. Stranger Danger.

  “You, Melody Reyes, fascinate me.”

  His lips barely grazed the sensitive skin of my ear, but I felt as though I’d been shot.

  A throat cleared behind us. I jumped. Spencer calmly faced the newcomer. A short Latina woman, her hair in a severe bun peered curiously at me. She had a round pleasant tan face. Her tone was professional but warm.

  “Lunch is ready, Spencer.”

  The familiarity with which the woman addressed Spencer endeared her to me. Strangely, there was a twinkle in her eye when she looked at me.

  “Thank you, Miss Becky. And please, may I introduce you to Melody Reyes.”

  Miss Becky smiled and enveloped me in a hug.

  “Pleasure to meet you,” she said graciously.

  “Pleasure’s mine.” I said with genuine enthusiasm. She pulled back but held my hand.

  “So, how did you and Spence meet?”

  I glanced self-consciously away. Spencer answered before I could. “We were just arguing about that.” Spencer winked at me, as though we’d been having a playful flirtatious conversation rather than a cut-throat-slap-inducing argument. And what was up with all that winking? Either one of the sexiest men alive kept winking at me or he had traces of Touretz. It was fifty-fifty.