Corporate Seduction (2 page)

“I know you’re not wearing a dress.” Reka dropped her pen and was now staring pointedly at Tacoma, who had invaded her office about ten minutes ago to discuss his impending wedding.

Tacoma rolled his contact-gray eyes. “I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that.”

“Oh, okay, just so we’re clear about that.” Reka straightened in her chair and gave Tacoma her full attention. “Proceed.” She hadn’t really been listening to him when he first came in because she had been organizing a file for Cienna, and generally Tacoma just wanted to vent. Replies usually weren’t necessary. But from the looks of him, she needed to throw some serious concentration his way. Her friend was definitely a little on the edgy side this Friday morning.

“I’m not sure what I’m wearing. It’s a choice between this dynamite cream-colored Versace I saw in a magazine and this off-the-rack white contraption that Terry likes. I swear, he’s monitoring my spending for this wedding like we’re one cracker shy of starving.” Nervously, Tacoma crossed his right leg over his left and rolled the end of his coral silk tie around his finger. Over Reka’s shoulder he could see it was a sunny New York day outside. And to top that off, it was Friday. Still, his mood was sour and his loving fiancé was the reason why. “Nice weddings cost money, and I want mine to be fabulous! I don’t know why he doesn’t understand that.”

“There’s a difference between fabulous and extravagant, Tacoma. Terry wants to take you on a nice honeymoon, but if you spend all the money on the wedding itself, you’ll be staring out the window of your apartment instead of lying on some tropical beach.”

Tacoma unraveled his tie, smoothed it down and gave himself another nod of approval for putting together the ivory linen pants, melon-colored silk shirt and tie that was just a shade lighter. His Kenneth Cole butter-toned tie ups and soft beige dress socks topped it off. Since his promotion to office manager and the big fat raise that came along with it, he’d been dressing his hundred and nineteen pound butt off.

“We’ve been to Cancun and Jamaica and the Bahamas. I’m about beached out. I suggested Paris.”

Reka watched Tacoma checking himself out and smiled to herself. No matter what was going on, Tacoma’s first concern was always his looks. He primped more than she did when they went out. Though they did most of their shopping together, she’d had nothing to do with today’s citrus look. “Paris isn’t cheap. Why don’t you cut the guest list? That’ll save some money on the food.”

Tacoma made a sound that was dangerously close to a screech, and Reka frowned. “I can’t cut my guest list. All those people just have to come. This is my big day,” he whined.

Reka pursed her lips and leaned her elbows on her desk. “Why don’t you fall in the floor and start rolling around? That’s all you need to top off this juvenile tantrum you’re throwing.”

Tacoma gasped.

Reka waved a hand in dismissal. “Save it for somebody who doesn’t know you like I do. You don’t even remember half those people you have on that list, you just want to show off. Cut the list to one hundred and fifty guests and tomorrow we’ll go and find you and Terry nice Versace-
looking
suits. But not white. That virginal thing is so played out.”

Tacoma straightened in the chair, his palms on his knees, and cracked a smile at her. That’s why he so adored Reka; she knew just how to make him feel better. “Okay, shopping and lunch tomorrow. That’s wonderful. Now I have to get back to work.”

He stood and Reka chuckled. “You remember how to do that?”

Tacoma was about to spray her with a smart reply when her speaker phone buzzed and Cienna’s voice filled the tiny office.

“Reka, I need to see you in my office, please.”

Reka pressed the red button on her phone and answered, “I’ll be right there.”

She stood, smoothed down her own purple knee-length skirt, and walked around her desk.

Tacoma opened the door, looking back at her for a second. “Girl, those pumps are killer , but you should have worn the blazer with that outfit instead of the scarf.”

“Keep walking, I’ve got this covered,” she said as she re-tied and fluffed her lavender and violet scarf so that it hung alluringly over her shoulder. Her sheer lavender blouse was plain and buttoned almost to her neck. The scarf awakened the otherwise drab material and tied the entire outfit together. She’d received two compliments while on the subway this morning, so she knew she had it going on.

Not that she would waste her time on the two tired, jobless men that had complimented her. Those days were over. Drama-filled relationships, heated breakups and senseless sex were a part of her past. Since receiving her degree from Queensborough Community College Reka had re-arranged her priorities, putting herself first, before any man.

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.