Harlequin Kimani Romance June 2017 Box Set
Page 37
Angela leaned over and gave her sister a one-armed hug. “Thank you, Denise.”
“You’re welcome,” she replied. “And I have to say, I owe you an apology.”
Angela frowned. “For what?”
“This place is great.” Denise motioned around the room, which had been decorated with Chiavari chairs, lush linens and large floral centerpieces filled with white roses and crystals and blue uplighting, her parents’ favorite color. “You really outdid yourself.”
“Thanks.” Angela had had a vision, and she’d brought it to life.
“I heard Mom and Dad say how much they love it.”
“Love what?” her parents asked, strolling toward them with Daniel. They had caught the tail end of Denise’s comment. Daniel came around to Angela’s side and slid his arm around her.
“The venue,” Denise offered.
“Oh yes, sweetheart,” their mother chimed in. “It’s exceeded our expectations.”
“I’m so glad.” Angela beamed with pride. “Only the best for you two.”
“Let’s toast,” Daniel said. He motioned a waiter carrying champagne glasses to bring some over. Once everyone had a flute in their hand, Daniel held up his. “To the happy couple. May you have many more years of wedded bliss.”
“To the happy couple.”
* * *
Daniel was ecstatic to finally hold Angela in his arms. He’d been dying to dance with his fiancée all night, but he’d had business to take care of first. Namely asking Angela’s father for her hand in marriage. He knew he’d done it backward and apologized to her father for his haste, admitting he’d been caught up in the moment and pouring out the love he had for his daughter.
Mr. Trainor appreciated his honesty and had given Daniel his blessing. It warmed Daniel’s heart because despite her sometimes-strained relationship with her parents, he knew Angela wanted their approval.
And she’d finally gotten it.
“Finally I have you to myself,” Daniel said as they swayed to the music.
“We just spent the whole day together.”
“Getting ready for the party,” he commented. “I meant some quality one-on-one time,” he whispered in her ear. Then his tongue flicked out to lightly tease her earlobe.
“Stop that,” she murmured.
Instead of stopping, Daniel pulled her even closer, leaned forward and kissed her deeply on the mouth. Her lips were soft on his and it was like a powerful drug to him. He thrust his hips against her in a subtle movement that was meant to arouse, meant to elicit a response.
And it did.
Angela moaned, and her response caused his groin to harden. “What do you say we get out of here?”
“I can’t,” she said. “Not until they cut the cake.”
Daniel groaned. “Spoilsport.”
Angela leaned over and in his ear whispered something so naughty and indecent about what she would do to him later that Daniel was relieved no one else could hear. “Promise?” he asked when she raised her head.
“I promise.”
Daniel smiled inwardly and wrapped his arm around her waist and then sweetly plundered her mouth. When he finally lifted his head, he said, “I can’t wait for tonight, Angela. And for every other night after that I get to spend with you because I love you. I love you so very much.”
He kissed the top of her head, and she hugged him back just as tightly. Daniel had found a remarkable woman. A kind, loving, giving woman who would always be by his side. With Angela he’d found his home, his sanctuary.
* * * * *
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ISBN-13: 9781488013669
Miami After Hours
Copyright © 2017 by Harlequin Books S.A.
Special thanks and acknowledgment are given to Yahrah Yisrael for her contribution to The Millionaire Moguls miniseries.
All rights reserved. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of publisher, Harlequin Enterprises Limited, 225 Duncan Mill Road, Don Mills, Ontario, M3B 3K9 Canada.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental. This edition published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.
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www.Harlequin.com
Undeniable chemistry
Makeup artist Zoe Baldwin can’t believe the gorgeous guy she flirted with on the way to a job interview was her potential boss. So when Will Ravens, CEO of his family’s cosmetics company, tells Zoe her innovative approach isn’t right for his brand, she agrees to work alongside him at a beauty pageant to prove her skills. But where there are sparks, there’s certain attraction…
Will is fighting to keep his family legacy afloat. He’s going back to basics at Ravens Cosmetics, leaving no time for romance or Zoe’s avant-garde ideas. But despite his intentions, he finds himself falling deeper under Zoe’s sensual spell. Amid the chaos caused by company sabotage, can both their career dreams and passionate fantasies come true?
As she bounced backward with a prolific apology, the wooden rails creaked. The last thing she needed to do was fall into the water with her tablet. She welcomed the strong pull around her waist, and she reached for the impeccably muscular arms.
“Whoa,” the deep and now familiar voice said into her ear.
“Mr. Ravens.” Zoe gasped. Once her eyes began to focus, she narrowed in on his lopsided smirk.
“Let’s see, we’ve shared a plane, shared a seat on a plane, and I’ve walked in on you taking a shower.”
Heat burned her cheeks. Zoe held her index finger up to correct him. “Almost in the shower.”
Will inclined his head. “Okay, almost. However, I do believe we are beyond the formalities. Please call me Will.”
Zoe bit the right corner of her bottom lip. “All right, Will. You’ll
have to call me Zoe.”
“It’s a pleasure, Zoe.”
He had no idea what a pleasure it was to still be in his arms.
Dear Reader,
It’s pageant season in Southwood, Georgia. Who doesn’t want to be glitzed up by none other than renowned makeup artist Zoe Baldwin? Titles are up for grabs, including the position of creative design director at Ravens Cosmetics.
Zoe is one of those women who’s planned out her life at an early age. She expects to end up seated at the corporate table at Ravens Cosmetics—not in the CEO’s bed. But there’s something to be said about the best-laid plans.
I must confess that I am one of those people who cannot leave the house without mascara. I wouldn’t quite call it a dependency—more like a security blanket. And since I cannot seem to apply a wing tip or false lashes like a pro, I get to pay homage to the professionals in The Beauty and the CEO.
Carolyn
The Beauty and the CEO
Carolyn Hector
Having your story read out loud as a teen by your brother in Julia Child’s voice might scare some folks from ever sharing their work. But Carolyn Hector rose above her fear. She currently resides in Tallahassee, Florida, where there is never a dull moment. School functions, politics, football, Southern charm and sizzling heat help fuel her knack for putting a romantic spin on everything she comes across. Find out what she’s up to on Twitter: @Carolyn32303.
Books by Carolyn Hector
Harlequin Kimani Romance
The Magic of Mistletoe
The Bachelor and the Beauty Queen
His Southern Sweetheart
The Beauty and the CEO
Visit the Author Profile page
at Harlequin.com for more titles.
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I would like to dedicate this book to my ambitious
daughter and nieces, Haley, Kayla and Ashleigh.
I live vicariously through these talented young ladies.
Acknowledgments
I would like to acknowledge the Galaxy
living in my house. Without their cooperation,
I wouldn’t get any writing done!
CONTENTS
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
CHAPTER 1
Morning rays of sunlight created a halo effect around the godlike body of a six-foot-four man strolling through the parting glass doors of Kelly Towers. A collective gasp of soft feminine sighs rose over the swishing sound of the automatic doors closing. With the sun behind him, the man strolled down the red carpet toward the elevator right where makeup artist Zoe Baldwin stood.
Dear Lord, Zoe began her silent prayer, if ever there were a time to get stuck in the elevator, please let it be now and with him.
The denim jeans he wore clung to his powerful thighs. A thin, white, long-sleeved shirt hugged the sculpted muscles of his arms and abdomen. As he came closer, everyone in the lobby turned their heads in his direction. Thick, dark brows framed his eyes. A prominent chin jutted out from the sharp angles of his long, masculine face. Zoe cocked her head to the left and reached up to touch the signature hoop earrings she was known to wear. Instead of the cool gold circle, Zoe’s fingertip brushed against heirloom pearls handed down from her grandmother. The jewels had a reputation for good luck. Perhaps with this fine-as-hell gentleman coming closer, the hand-me-down stories were true.
Though he didn’t carry a portfolio, Zoe pegged her soon-to-be elevator companion as a male model. The fifty-three-story Kelly Towers was home to several of Miami’s elite businesses. The local news station was housed on ten floors, while Ravens Cosmetics, Zoe’s final destination, was housed on the fortieth through the forty-ninth. Modeling and a few talent agencies were sprinkled throughout the other floors. Zoe guessed he’d get off on one of those floors. For her, the only place she needed to be was at Ravens Cosmetics—the home of the oldest and most successful cosmetic line for people of color in the United States and now globally. And if today went as planned at her interview, she could call Ravens Cosmetics home as well.
In an attempt to flirt, Zoe licked her lips, tasting the hint of honey in the concoction she used for lip balm. The response she received from the gorgeous man was a lopsided, boy-next-door smile mixed with a hint of danger. The sensual curve of his full lips begged to challenge the question every makeup-wearing woman pondered: Was he worth smearing her lipstick for? His lips parted into a dashing smile and crinkles appeared at the corners of his eyes. An older model? Twenty-five? Twenty-eight? She’d heard RC was going in a new direction. It was about time they added someone more age appropriate to their ads for men. The men in the ads for shaving, lotions and other male grooming products were handsome but also extremely young—as in barely-legal-young. Under thirty as a male was far from old, but in the modeling world he might be ready to retire.
“Hello,” he said.
His deep baritone touched her soul. A powerful shiver trickled down her spine while her knees weakened. “Hi,” she replied.
With the limited skills she had in the flirting department, Zoe batted her lashes and damn it if her cell phone didn’t ring. The old-school Prince song indicated the hotline for one of her closest friends. It was almost a bat signal, and when that song rang, Zoe picked up the phone and answered. “Hey, what’s up?”
Lexi Pendergrass Reyes’s cheerful voice came over the line loud and clear. “I wanted to wish you luck before your interview.”
“You’re so sweet,” Zoe said as she offered an apologetic smile to the handsome man. Zoe stepped backward and did a little spin in an attempt to give the stranger a better view of her angles in her black pencil skirt and red silk Rochas blouse decorated with oversize magnolias. She’d received the blouse at a Vogue photo shoot last year, another lucky memento of her work. “Can I call you right back?”
“Of course,” Lexi said, “but don’t forget. On top of wishing you the luck you don’t need, I do have a huge favor to ask of you.”
The flashing triangle light above the elevator doors indicated it was coming in a few seconds. “The answer is yes. I don’t even have to know what it is.”
“You say that now. Bye, girl.”
Zoe swiped the icon on her cell to hang up the call. She took a deep breath, ready to speak to her male model again. As a makeup artist, she noticed he needed no cover-up. She’d known some models and actors who’d paid to have cheekbones as sculpted as his.
“So,” he began, leaning against the marble wall near the up and down arrow-shaped buttons of the elevator.
“So,” Zoe repeated.
She was prepared to have some form of meaningful conversation in the span of the few seconds provided before the elevator arrived, but that was interrupted when the doors on the first floor, leading to the building’s cafeteria, opened up. It was not unusual in a place like this to run into some of the local celebrities. A gaggle of girls screamed at the sight of Zoe. Zoe and her magic beauty box kits were the reason certain faces graced the covers of top beauty magazines. She’d decorated the faces of movie stars, governors and their spouses, singers and television reality stars. Torn between not having seen these ladies in quite some time and getting to the meat of this conversation with the hot guy, Zoe offered another apologetic smile. The man stepped forward and extracted a business card from his back pocket to give to her, the
n winked before turning to take the door into the stairwell.
“Hey, guys,” said Zoe, slipping the card into the front of her purse. “What’s going on today?”
The half-dozen girls began to complain all at once about having to come in this morning for a music video which was being filmed in the cafeteria. Something about their makeup not being right and begging Zoe to ace the interview.
“Girl, that outfit is giving me life! There really should be no reason for you to interview,” said Clarita Benson. She was a six-foot-three model in flats.
The next tallest was six-two, a former volleyball star turned model. Her blond hair stuck out at the ends like straw. “I heard Marcus Ravens say you were the best person for the job.”
“I guess we’ll see in a little bit.” Zoe shrugged her shoulders and craned her neck. Thankfully, the elevator doors opened with a loud ding. “Listen, ladies, I’ve got to head off and ace this interview.”
The doors closed as the girls chorused, “Good luck!” Zoe leaned against the back of the compartment. She smiled at her reflection, knowing she’d dressed the part.
In truth, Zoe knew she was the right person for the position as the Creative Design Director at Ravens Cosmetics. She had a BS in biochemistry and an MS in cosmetic chemistry, both from Fairleigh Dickinson University, held a license as a beautician and was the number one most-requested makeup artist at Fashion Week in New York, London, Milan and Paris. Her work with artists at Coachella over the last five years had gotten her noticed for the CDD position at several cosmetic companies.
Zoe only wanted to set roots down in the Miami office of Ravens Cosmetics. Call it a predestined destination. Her great-grandmother Sadie, affectionately known as GiGi, ran one of the largest cosmetology schools in the Southeast. As a teen growing up in Trinidad, Gigi loved getting ready for the masquerade, also known as “Mas,” at Carnival. For a touch of home, she named her new school after the beloved event. Before leaving Mas Beauty School, all the students wanted to be an employee at Ravens Cosmetics, one of the oldest and most successful cosmetics companies founded by an African American woman for people of color. It would be a sign of success to join their company. Tears of pride and joy threatened to escape the corners of her eyes as she realized how close she was to following in her grandmother’s footsteps.