Corporate Seduction (10 page)

“Great.” She pushed away from her leaning position and moved to the television and the cabinet beneath it where she kept her DVDs. “What are you in the mood for? I’ve got some action, some suspense, some sci-fi.”

And they all would probably give him insight into the vivacious woman he was already coming to adore. But what he really wanted to see was her soft side, her passionate side, because he knew without a doubt that she had one. And he suspected that was the better side of Reka Boyd. “Why don’t you pick your favorite and we’ll watch it.”

Reka looked over at him, uncertainty clear in her eyes. “Are you sure you want to trust me to make the choice?”

Looking up from the computer screen, Khalil considered his decision. Judging from her expression, again he’d managed to surprise her. That was good; he liked keeping her on her toes. “Positive.”

She shrugged and slid her favorite DVD from the cabinet and put it into the machine. “Okay,” she called to him and patted the pillows on the couch next to her, “we’re all set.”

Punching the last few lines of code in, Khalil left the computer to do its thing without him and joined her. He had to admit that a part of him was a little uncertain at giving her the go ahead to pick the movie. But how bad could it be? He got his answer the moment the perky music began and a silly cartoon drawing popped up on the screen. “What’s this?” he asked as soon as a tiny mailbox appeared with the now familiar saying, ‘You’ve got mail,’ echoing from the speakers.

He turned to her. “You’re kidding, right?”

“Nope.” She grinned. “You said I could pick my favorite, and this is my favorite.”

“Tom Hanks and Meg Ryan?” He gave her a perplexed look. “I would have figured you for
Ocean’s 11
or
The Italian Job
or something like that.”

“Why? Do I look like a thief?” She nudged his shoulder.

His arm instantly warmed. A thief? Maybe, since she was making a good attempt at stealing his heart. “No, because they’re packed with action and danger. I’d think those things would appeal to you.”

“And a romantic comedy wouldn’t?” She didn’t know if she should be offended or not.

“You haven’t given any signs of being a romantic.”

She began to rise from the chair, now deciding on being offended. “Then I’ll turn it off.”

Khalil grabbed her arm, pulled her back down until she was almost on his lap. “Don’t. I like romances too.”

She glared at him over her shoulder. “Liar.”

“I’m not lying. Any man with a brain knows that these movies are the key to pleasing all women. So I watch all of them and take notes.”

She smiled. “I knew you were a smart guy.” Settling back, she watched the beginning of the movie, wondering if knowing that he was a romantic was a good or bad thing. She’d never known a guy that liked chick flicks before. She started to compare him to Donovan or one of her other disasters but quickly decided against it. There was no comparison, so why waste her time?

They watched the movie in virtual silence with Khalil taking note of each time she sighed, each time she smiled and each time she made a wry comment. He watched her watch the movie more than he actually watched it himself. In the span of an hour and fifty-seven minutes he learned a great deal more about her, and was quite pleased with that fact. So much so that when the movie was over he was the one to get up and turn the television off. He was the one who came back to the couch and pulled her closer again. “Thank you for helping me relax tonight,” he said, nuzzling her neck.

Reka melted at his touch, wondering why she’d never experienced these sensations before. “You’re welcome. But I’ve got to get you more used to it. I shouldn’t have to remind you to relax, it should just come natural.”

“Speaking of natural.” With a finger to her chin he turned her face to his and lightly grazed her lips.

Reka puckered in response, let her hands fall on his chest. “This does feel natural, doesn’t it?” She questioned herself more than him.

“Very,” he said, brushing over her supple lips again. Then out of sheer curiosity his tongue snaked out, traced the beauty mark at the base of her lip and he felt his entire body quake as she moaned in response.

Boldly Reka let her own tongue repeat the action on his lips. His thin mustache tickled but in a good, arousing sort of way. His lips were soft and after she’d traced their outline, opened, ready for the assault. Slowly she slipped inside, invading his warm mouth, and her hands came up behind his head and pulled him closer.

She controlled the kiss, and did a damn fine job of it, too. Khalil kept his raging hormones to himself and let her lead him. She was used to leading. So was he. Somebody had to give, and this time it would be him. Her mouth slanted over his, taking the kiss deeper even as his hands roamed up and down her body until his thumbs were brushing past the engorged mounds of her breasts.

Her mind was fuzzy as the need to devour him crept slowly throughout her body. What was she doing? This was a mistake. Wasn’t it? She pulled away, then stared into his half closed hazy eyes. It didn’t feel like a mistake. It felt like…his thumb found her nipple. It felt damn good. That’s what it felt like. On a ragged moan she took his mouth again as he toyed with her breasts, making her center moist with anticipation.

She was kissing him like a woman ready to take the plunge. This was what he wanted, right? He wanted her in bed, he wanted to be inside her, a part of her. He wanted that so badly. Yet his mind screamed that he wanted so much more. So he was the one to pull away this time, dropping tiny noncommittal kisses on her lips because he couldn’t quite break the connection. “You’re a really good kisser.”

She smiled. “What can I say? I like to kiss.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever appreciated kissing as much as I do now.”

Reka didn’t know what else to say. She didn’t know what she was feeling. Khalil wasn’t the man for her. She’d sworn off men, anyway. So why was she debating taking him into her bedroom and straddling him for the duration of the night? He looked at her as if he wanted the same thing, but that was most likely all he wanted. “What are we doing, Khalil?”

Khalil had learned a long time ago that most women were smarter than most men, so lying was usually a waste of time. Reka was no exception. “We’re kissing each other because we’re very attracted to one another.”

“But we know that this attraction can only lead to heartache,” she said breathily.

“I don’t know that.” His hands moved through her hair. “Do you? I mean, do you honestly believe that I would hurt you?”

As badly as she wanted to say no, she had been down that road entirely too many times. “I honestly believe that this attraction is dangerous and that we should both give it a lot more thought before going any further.” She loved the way he massaged her scalp while his eyes searched her face, as if he were trying to memorize every feature.

He chuckled lightly. “I think about you so much now I think I’m going crazy. But you’re absolutely right. We need to take this slow because what I have in store for you is serious. I want you to make sure you can handle it.”

Pulling her head back slightly and blinking quickly, Reka looked him up and down. “Handle what? You?” She was about to tell him that he should be the one worrying, but his seriousness stopped her.

“Yes, me. Can you handle a real man, Reka?” Her mouth was poised and open, he knew to tell him a thing or two in that brash way of hers, but he quickly put a finger to her lips to stop her. “I’m not playing and I’m not asking if you can handle me sexing you like crazy. I’m asking if you can handle how a real man treats his woman. And how a woman should be with her man. Think about that, Reka, because that’s what I’m coming to the table with.” He stood to leave then because he wanted so badly to carry her into that bedroom and simply show her all he had inside for her. But that’s what she was expecting. So with every ounce of strength he had, he grabbed his suit jacket and coat and headed for the door.

She was still sitting on the couch, probably stunned at what he’d said to her. Good, that would give her something to chew on for the rest of the night. He opened the door, then turned back to her momentarily. “Shut your computer down completely before you go to bed.”

And just like that he was gone.

Reka released the breath that had lodged in her chest the moment he touched his finger to her lips. He wasn’t simply talking about sex, that she knew for sure. And while she also knew how good she was in bed, she sensed that Khalil was even better. But that wasn’t what had her trembling, her heart going at an exuberant rate. It was his words, the fierce intensity of that undeniable question: “Can you handle a real man?”

* * *

So now he’d not only kissed her but he’d touched her. He’d felt those supple breasts straining beneath thin cotton and longed for the flesh even more.

Sighing, he turned the key, letting himself into his apartment. He was not a teenager, and sex had come to him fast and steady since his sixteenth birthday. There was no logical reason why just the thought of her, the smell of her perfume, the tilt of her head when she spoke had him horny and hot as a thirty-year-old virgin!

Stripping down to his boxers and t-shirt, he went to his desk and contemplated tonight’s events while waiting for the computer to boot up. If he’d stayed she’d be naked by now. His tongue would be flicking across her hardened nipples while she stroked him to ecstasy. She’d moan as he slipped his fingers between her velvety folds. His heart beat faster, stronger and his erection poked boldly through the slit in his shorts.

All he could think about was getting his hands on her, but he knew that was wrong. That wasn’t what she needed and it wasn’t the only thing he wanted to give her. He wanted her to experience stability and commitment. He wanted to prove to her that men could be trusted, that he could be trusted. Jumping her bones at the first opportunity wasn’t going to achieve that.

The telephone rang, startling him. His hand instinctively covered his crotch as if the person on the other end of the phone could see him.

“Hello?” The edge in his tone was completely audible.

“Working late?”

Kahlil sighed at the sound of Keith’s voice. “Shouldn’t you be entertaining your wife?”

“I would if she’d stop hacking me about the emails and what you’re doing about them.”

“I’ve only been on the job a week.”

“And yet you’ve managed to fall for one of my paralegals.”

“We’re supposed to be talking business.” Khalil frowned and punched in the codes to his computer.

“Then get to it.”

“It’s somebody close to Page & Associates.”

Keith was quiet a moment then asked, “How do you know?”

“Reka received a direct email today. I couldn’t trace it, but she invited me to her place to look at her home PC.”

A low whistle signified Keith was thinking along the personal lines again. “Her
home
PC, huh?”

“It’s late, try to focus,” Khalil shot back.

“Is that what you were doing? Focusing?” Keith laughed.

Lines of code appeared on Khalil’s computer screen. “He mentioned seeing her at a club on Saturday night. So he knows who she is.”

Keith was quiet again.

Reading Keith’s silence, Khalil sighed. “I thought the same thing. That’s why I dropped hints until she invited me to see her home computer.” He typed in her password.

“Reka’s not like that,” Keith sighed.

“I know, but she has a lot of shady characters in her past.”

“I presume you’re already looking into that.”

Reka’s email box appeared. “I’ll have reports first thing tomorrow morning.”

“Keep me posted.”

Khalil nodded, scrolled down her list of received messages. “Will do.”

“One more thing.”

“What’s that?”

“Don’t sleep with her if she’s a part of the investigation.”

Khalil’s fingers paused over the keys. “I know what I’m doing.”

“All right. Explain it to me after you catch this creep.”

On instinct Khalil switched screens, pulling up his own personal email. “Will do.”

Replacing the phone in its cradle, Khalil typed her address in the ‘To’ spot. Acting on impulse and remembering Tom Hank’s success in the movie they’d just watched, he typed: “Thoughts of You” in the subject line.

On one side of the glossy brown table Jonathan Peterson, the CEO of Sensuality, Inc., sat with his sloe-eyed son, Barkley. On the other side Reka and Cienna sat, the epitome of professionalism.

They’d had an eight-thirty appointment and it was now ten-forty-five. They’d discussed everything from the launch party to the possible liability of underage models used in the latest catalog. Now they were discussing Jonathan’s will and the changes brought on by his nasty divorce from former model Eleanor DePalma Peterson.

Reka drew lazy circles on her yellow legal pad while they talked. She probably should be paying attention, but Jonathan Peterson was a selfish whiner if she ever saw one. He didn’t want to give his wife one dime, even after she’d had the pleasure of interrupting him while he humped their twenty-year-old maid in the laundry room. He looked at Cienna as if he wanted her to be next in line, but wisely held back after he was reminded of her stand on sexual harassment. Reka definitely didn’t like the man or the lecherous look in his eyes.

Now his son, that was another matter entirely.

Barkley was about twenty-five, probably six feet tall, with a smooth raisin complexion and gray bedroom eyes. His voice was silky, like fine wine, his smile mind-blowing. Reka sighed. But his rap was weak. She’d heard his tired lines too many times before and was far from impressed. He flirted openly with her and any other woman with a pulse. The one thing he did have going for him was a huge inheritance he would collect upon his father’s death or his thirtieth birthday, whichever came first. That was enough to both spoil Barkley and entice women into his bed.

It was a good thing she was into making her own money and planning for her own future, else she’d have to give those skanks a run for their money. Still, sitting across from him didn’t amuse her as it usually did. This morning she’d been preoccupied. Thoughts of last night, and Khalil’s parting words, still danced in her mind.

“So we’re clear that any models appearing at the launch party need to be over twenty-one? The press will be there and they’ll be hungry for news. You can’t afford another lawsuit right now, especially not with Eleanor on you about money.” Cienna began to gather her papers.

“Barkley will ensure that all the models are legal.” Jonathan shot his son an eerie look.

Barkley nodded. “Legal and fine.” Licking his lips, he looked towards Reka.

He was such an immature goof; she smiled in response. “No doubt.” Then made a point of licking her lips in return.

He shifted in his seat uncomfortably. Reka grinned. Just as she thought. Barkley couldn’t handle her.

“Then I think we’re done here. I’ll call Eleanor’s attorney, then get back to you.” Cienna spoke quickly as she stood.

Reka followed her lead, watching out of the corner of her eye as Barkley’s eyes roamed the length of her suit.

Jonathan rose, extending his hand to Cienna. “It’s always a pleasure doing business with you, Cienna.”

A clearly fake smile spreading across her face, Cienna shook his hand. “Likewise, Jonathan.”

They were out of the conference room when Reka heard an intake of breath from behind.

“Is it sexual harassment if I tell you how hot your legs make me?” Barkley all but hissed.

When she turned abruptly, he stumbled, putting his hands up to keep their bodies from clashing. With a hand on her hip and in a gesture that she knew pulled her blouse tightly over her breasts, she stared him right in his sultry eyes. “It is, and I won’t hesitate to prosecute to the fullest extent of the law.”

“Mmmm, I’m scared of you,” he chimed.

“You should be.” She rolled her eyes and left him standing there.

Reka was hungry. The early meeting had caused her to miss her daily bagel and coffee, and her stomach was about to start a rebellion. So when she passed the reception desk and Clare, the receptionist, called her name, she almost yelled at the poor older woman. Instead, she took a deep breath and turned.

“Yes, Clare?”

“There’s someone waiting over there for you.”

Reka followed the woman’s gaze to the tiny alcove just off the main lobby. There, in all his tall, fine-ass black man glory, was Donovan Jackson.

From across the room he gave her that smirk that never failed to make her panties wet. She frowned. She must really be hungry and frustrated, because all she felt now was irritation. “Thanks, Clare,” she said as she walked past the desk.

His body language said ‘come and get it.’ His thick lips and bald head said he knew just how she liked it. But her keen memory and her desire not to catch a charge for ramming her fist down his throat ruled. “We don’t do criminal work,” she said with all the attitude she felt.

Donovan chuckled. “That’s cool. I’m not looking for a lawyer.”

He still smelled good and his gear was tight, a complete Sean Jean denim hookup with navy blue Tims at his feet. She was so caught up in the sight of him here in the office that she slipped up. “Then what are you looking for?”

He smoothed a hand over his clean-shaven chin. “I’m looking for an assistant,” his hand moved down over his chest before falling to his side, “to assist me.”

Mmph. Nine months ago she would have bent over backwards to do just that. Luckily she’d grown a hell of a lot in nine months. “Look, Donovan, this is my place of employment. You have to take your games elsewhere.”

“I’m not running a game this time. Can’t I just take you to lunch?”

“You could if I wanted to go, but I don’t. As a matter of fact, I thought we’d decided not to see each other anymore.”

Donovan took a step closer. “You decided that and I let it go for a minute, but now I’m having second thoughts.”

He reached out, touched one of the curls falling from her udo while he talked. She swiped his hand away. “Well, check this. Your thoughts no longer concern me. What we had is over and done with. Buying me lunch won’t change that.”

“Damn, girl. Why are you giving me such a hard time?”

“I’m not giving you half of what you deserve, that’s what you should be thinking about.” She took a deep breath, realizing her voice was elevating and that she was quickly reverting back to the street savvy girl from the club. She didn’t like it one bit. “Look, it’s just over between us. I don’t think lunch, or any other shared meal, is a good idea. So do me a favor and leave for good this time.”

She turned to walk away but he grabbed her arm. “I’ll leave, but it’s not over. Not by a long shot.”

* * *

With quick strides, a frown on her face and a bag of chips in hand, Reka finally made it to her office and slammed the door behind her. Plopping into the chair, she banged her palm against the mouse and waited for the computer screen to wake from its sleep mode.

Her head began to throb, and her stomach rumbled in protest. She yanked the bag of chips open and hastily stuck two into her mouth. While crunching on the salty snack, she touched the mouse again, dragging the arrow down the list of new emails. Deciding there were no pressing work messages, she switched screens and her personal email account came up. A few jokes, a daily horoscope and a message from a vendor she was checking for Tacoma’s wedding showed up in her inbox. Just as she was about to click out of that screen, she spotted a message that made her stomach churn, this time from shock.

To: [email protected]

From: [email protected]

Subject: Thoughts of You

If I could stop thinking about you for just one minute of the day I’d probably get a lot more work done. But since meeting you that’s been impossible. I cannot begin to erase the past or the heartache that you’ve endured, but I can promise you one thing, I will be the best man that you never had.

KJF

P.S. Open your top right drawer. Someone’s dying to meet you.

Slowly she swallowed, her eyes roaming over the message again. The background was of lively pink roses, the font a pretty script that put her in mind of romance. His signature, simply his initials, gave the impression that he was the only one in her life who would send her a message like this, which incidentally was true. As if the words had just sunk in, she sat up in her chair to pull the desk drawer open.

Inside was a green box with a lovely gold ribbon. Her heart fluttered and her eyes almost watered. Shaking herself free of romanticizing, she tugged at the bow and cracked open the box. Whatever it was had been wrapped in a mess of tissue paper that Reka none-too-gently tore away.

“Oh,” she gasped when the lightweight crystal figurine settled in the palm of her hand.

Now her heart all but stopped as she blinked furiously. How had he known? She hadn’t told anybody of her collection.

He must have seen them in her apartment, in the curio cabinet on the wall near the door. Damn, he’d paid that much attention.

The painted white face was sad, the red mouth downturned, one lone tear inching down the cheek. Big red pants, a wide yellow shirt, colorful bowtie and huge shiny black shoes, a form she’d grown to love. The delicate crystal and the tag noting the store in which it had been purchased gave her a clue as to the price.

But that really didn’t matter to Reka. What seemed abundantly clear was that a lot of thought had gone into this gift. Thoughts of her, just as his message had stated. He had been thinking of her.

Her heart found an unsteady rhythm as an idea formed in her mind. Khalil was definitely different from any man she’d ever known. His leaving her hanging last night and this extremely thoughtful gift were evidence of that.

So what was her reason for not pursuing things with him again?

Age? No, he wasn’t simply older than her by seven years; he was more mature, more comfortable with his manhood than the boys she was used to.

And that, she decided, could be a good thing, a very good thing.

* * *

Reka was in meetings all morning. He had been behind closed doors with Cienna and Keith all afternoon. By the time he made it back to his office and called her, she was already gone for the day. Unable to quite describe the emptiness inside him, Khalil packed up his things and headed home himself.

Entering his apartment, he performed his usual ritual. He switched on the computer and began to undress. The only place he really let himself go was within the confines of his own home. Slipping into an old pair of basketball shorts and leaving his sleeveless undershirt on, he walked in his socks back into his home office and prepared to work on breaking into the Page & Associates network. If he could figure out how the network had been accessed, hopefully that would narrow down his list of suspects.

After working nonstop for about an hour, exhaustion began creeping into his bones. Glancing at the clock, he noticed it was almost seven. He’d work until eight, pop a TV dinner into the microwave and then be done for the night. Then the doorbell interrupted him.

* * *

Reka had left the office an hour early. Taking a trip to the nearest department store, she headed straight for the lingerie department and found herself once again immersed in the products of Sensuality, Inc. It took close to an hour before she selected the right combination and headed towards the subway and home.

“Hot date with Mr. Handsome, huh?” Grammy chirped from her favorite spot on the couch.

Yes, she was still here and truth be told, Reka didn’t really see her returning to Sunny Days. But she’d have to deal with that dilemma later. Right now she had another objective. After thirty minutes in the tub, she moistened every inch of her bronze skin, paying close attention to the troublesome areas like the heels of her feet and elbows. She didn’t know about anybody else, but she wouldn’t want to be all up on a guy and then feel his ashy heels or elbows. That was an instant turn off.

The lingerie lay against her like cool wisps of silk, in an awesome burnt orange hue that almost clashed with her skin tone. Even though it was November, stockings were not going to work with this outfit, and neither were garters. She’d simply go barefoot with her spiky heeled sandals, she thought as she slipped her legs into the form-fitting black bodysuit. Clasping a gold chain belt at her waist, she turned from side to side to survey the results. “Go get him, girl.” She winked and gave herself one last pep talk.

Wisely, she’d taken her trench coat into her room with her so Grammy wouldn’t see the outfit she was going out in. That would take another half hour of explaining, and she didn’t have time for that. “Don’t wait up, Grammy,” she chimed as she closed the door behind her.

Her heels clicked along the sidewalk as she walked the few blocks to Khalil’s condo complex. With each step her heart beat a little faster, and her center pulsated a little more persistently. She’d made up her mind; she was moving forward with Khalil tonight. And whatever happened afterwards would simply happen. But tonight she was going to have that man. She needed to have a taste of him.

She pressed the bell and debated whether to untie her coat and give him a sneak peek right off the bat or keep it closed and let his suspense build. He answered so quickly the decision was made for her.

“Hi.” His surprised expression instantly alerted her.

“Hi.” Her voice wavered slightly. “Am I disturbing you?” She hadn’t really thought far enough into her plan to consider whether he might have company.

“Ah, no. No, you’re not disturbing me.” When his heart found its rhythm again, Khalil stepped to the side to let her in. “I’m a little surprised to see you here, though.”

She walked past him, her perfume following behind her like a dog on a leash. He closed his eyes and willed himself to close the door and follow her into the living room.

“I didn’t feel like staying in tonight.” Reka stood in the middle of his living room and looked around. Plain furniture, expensive but bland, with straight lines and not a lot of character. “Thought I’d come over and give you another lesson in relaxation.” In a few weeks she’d school him on decorating, but first things first.

Her back was to him. Then she turned slightly, her head sort of peeking at him over her shoulder. Her hair was loose, her eyes glittering, her lips shiny and beckoning. He swallowed deeply. “Relaxation. That sounds like a good idea.” He took a step closer to take her coat.