Corporate Seduction (3 page)

“You seem pretty well versed on the laws of men and women. I think you should be the one to go over these messages with me. You know, to find common links and match them up with possible culprits.”

Cienna stood, wanting this tense atmosphere lifted and taken immediately out of her office. She had enough to handle with the messages steadily coming in. The last thing she needed was Reka and Khalil going head-to-head as well. “That’s a fantastic idea. Reka, you could get your files on the Naughty and Nice Collection and join Khalil when he reviews the messages. There probably are lots of similarities and references to the collection. Compiling a list and narrowing it down to a few employees at Sensuality, Inc., shouldn’t be a problem.” At least she hoped it wouldn’t. “In any case, Khalil can come up with a firewall that will keep Jack from sharing his trials with us.”

Something told Reka working with Khalil was a bad idea. Still, her big mouth was about to sign a check she only prayed she’d be able to cash. “That’s fine. I’ll work with him. Men tend to think alike, so having a woman on the case might prove the best route.”

Khalil couldn’t help it. He threw his head back and laughed. He liked this woman. She was refreshing, so different from the women he was used to meeting. She said what she meant and he had a feeling she meant what she said. She was brutally honest. Something Sonya had definitely not been.

“Then it’s a deal. I’ll give you some time to get your files together and then you can meet me in my office,” he told her, even though he sensed she didn’t like being told what to do.

“Then that’s settled. You two are on the case. I’m depending on you to bring this to a timely close.” Cienna walked to the door and opened it. Reka gave her a blistering gaze on her way out.

“You know you can depend on me, Cienna.”

“I know, Reka.” She knew, all right. She knew that before the day was out she’d have to hear what Reka really thought of Khalil Franklin and her orders to work with him.

Khalil stared after Reka, his eyes undoubtedly drawn to the sway of those purple-clad hips. His blood, which had already been pumping way too fast, simmered and boiled. He straightened his tie when he caught Cienna staring at him. “Which way is my office?”

Cienna gave a knowing grin. “Blessedly, in the opposite direction of Reka’s.”

* * *

Reka had a file box full of correspondence and materials from Sensuality, Inc., going back to the first thing Cienna had done for the company, the articles of incorporation. From there she’d worked on their patents and advised Mr. Peterson on office policies. Just recently she’d taken on his messy divorce case. His wife was no fool; she wanted everything she had coming to her, and then some. So they’d begun the paper war, collecting and exchanging information with opposing counsel.

Mr. Peterson always shared his new product announcements with Cienna and she, in turn, forwarded them to Reka. Before returning to her office, Reka, with Tacoma’s help, brought the boxes of information from the workroom and placed them in the corner so they’d be accessible when she met with the IT guy.

Sitting behind her desk, she allowed herself five minutes to think about the IT guy. “Five minutes won’t hurt,” she mumbled. He was tall, oh so damned tall. Almost too tall, she thought with a frown. Considering she was barely five feet, two inches, just about any adult was tall to her. Yet when he stood in front of her, very closely in front of her, his height hadn’t seemed intimidating at all. To the contrary, it made her feel almost secure. As if he were a shield, offering her protection.

His skin reminded her of her favorite candy, Milk Maid Caramels. Even though she hadn’t touched him, his cheeks looked smooth. The lower half of his face was covered by a thin beard and mustache—so thin creamy-colored skin showed beneath the dark hair. His eyes were dark as they’d raked over her.

Lastly, because her five minutes were running out, his suit. Reka loved a man who could dress and, from the looks of his tailor-made suit, this brother definitely had good taste. The jacket had molded against his broad shoulders perfectly, the pants, pleated—men without pleats in their pants had serious fashion issues in her book—hung on his hips expertly, and the cuffed hem rested on those shiny shoes.

She twirled the ends of her scarf around her fingers and rocked in her chair. He was a good-looking specimen. If one were looking for a good looking specimen.

Which she definitely was not.

Donovan had been the last straw. Even thinking his name had her on the verge of screaming. His ultimate betrayal had hurt her one final, excruciating time and, from that moment nine months ago until now, she’d known that men were not in her immediate future.

Thank heaven her five minutes were over.

* * *

Something told him she wasn’t coming to his office. Maybe it was because of her generally defiant air or maybe because he’d practically ordered her to come. Either way, it had been forty minutes since he’d first laid eyes on her in Cienna’s office and she still hadn’t appeared.

Cienna had walked Khalil to his office, introducing him to other staff members along the way. He had a desk, a computer, a telephone and a separate fax machine. That was all he needed for the moment. He’d bring in his personal scanning equipment next week so he could link it to the Page & Associates network. But since today was Friday and they were just getting started, he’d go over the mountain of messages that had been sent so far.

But he didn’t want to do that alone.

Reka Boyd, Cienna’s assistant. She’d awakened something in him, something he hadn’t even known was there. Something about her spunky personality had unnerved him and, for some strange reason, he wanted to experience it again. He wanted to hear that voice that was so different from the sophisticated drawl he’d been used to hearing from the women he dated. She wasn’t street, yet she had a definite urban-ness that appealed to him.

And that body…Damn, the man who’d originally compared the female form to a Coca-Cola bottle would have had regular dreams about Reka. She was short and curvaceous and wore clothes that emphasized her attributes. He chuckled. Maybe he shouldn’t classify her as short. Petite probably sounded better to her. Even though she wore sizable heels, she’d still fallen well beneath his shoulders. But that hadn’t stopped her from eyeing him down and standing her ground.

Her opinions about the email stalker being a man had been humorous, even though he’d sensed she was dead serious, too serious, as if she’d had experience with immature, egotistical men. Or had she called them dogs? Either way, he was dying to hear more, to learn just how her mind worked. He hadn’t been this intrigued in a long while.

Where was she? He looked at his watch again, then decided she wasn’t coming. He grabbed the emails and made his way down the hall to her office. If Mohammed wouldn’t come to the mountain…

Reka was printing a particularly bothersome pleading that she’d been working on since the day before. She wanted to get it on Cienna’s desk for her review before she left today. She knew she had to meet with that IT guy and didn’t want this assignment to sit idle while she did. She’d just taken the papers from the printer and was about to staple them together when she heard a brief knock on her door, then watched as the door opened.

He leaned his long frame against the doorjamb. He’d removed his jacket, and she immediately noticed the bulging biceps as his shirt constricted. Beneath one arm he held a stack of papers she assumed were the infamous emails. The other hand was stuffed nonchalantly into his pocket. And he smiled.

Her breasts seemed to expand, her nipples hardening instantly, and her lips thinned in consternation. She’d given herself five minutes to think about his gorgeousness, but apparently that hadn’t been enough.

“I thought I was to come to your office,” she said tightly, looking away.

Khalil presumed that was all the permission he was going to get, so he entered her office and shut the door behind him. “You were taking too long.” Setting the papers on the edge of her desk, he took a seat.

“Impatient, are we?” She dropped the work she’d just finished into her out basket and cleared her computer screen.

She shifted in her chair, giving him a glimpse of her plump breasts against her blouse. With much effort he dragged his eyes back to her face. “I’d say anxious describes it better.”

He swept a dark gaze over her. No, it wasn’t a gaze—it was more like a caress and her heart thumped in her chest. For an instant she tingled beneath his scrutiny. Then thoughts of Donovan and his bold good looks resurfaced, and her resolve hardened. “Fine. The sooner we get this over with, the sooner we can both get on with other things.”

Did he make her nervous? Of course not, she was too sassy to be nervous. But he’d definitely ruffled her feathers in some way. “You don’t like me, do you?” he chanced to ask.

Reka sighed heavily. “I don’t know you, Mr. Franklin.” For a minute she’d almost called him IT guy or worse, Mr. Handsome. “I’m sick of getting these emails, so if you can find a way to stop them, then I’m more than glad to help.”

“The emails bother you? Why?” She didn’t look like the type to be easily intimidated; or embarrassed, for that matter. He wondered if the emails bothered her on a more personal level. Of course, that had nothing to do with the job, but still he wanted to know.

Reka tilted her head and stared at him, wondering why he’d asked that particular question. “I don’t normally like to discuss sex at the office.” At least she and Tacoma made a valiant effort not to discuss sex at the office.

That was a professional response, one he should have accepted. But being a PI, he prided himself on his ability to dig a little deeper. “What does your boyfriend think of them?”

Reka narrowed her eyes, sat back in the chair. She noticed his kissable lips. Kissable meaning they weren’t so thin you had to wonder if they were just slashes across his face where he stuffed his food or so thick you’d fear being swallowed during the experience.

“How old are you?” she blurted out.

Khalil blinked at the quick shift in subject. “Thirty-five. How old are you?” He’d wanted to ask that anyway; now she’d given him the chance.

Great, he was a little old, even if she was interested, which she definitely was not. Her usual age difference was limited to three or four years; seven was a stretch. “I’m twenty-eight, and old enough to know that if you want to know something you should just come right out and ask. If you want to know if I have a boyfriend, just ask me.”

Khalil grinned. Damn, but he liked this woman. “Okay, do you have a boyfriend?”

Because, despite herself, his smile did something to her, she cracked a grin. “No, I don’t. But if I did, I still wouldn’t want to get these messages.”

She didn’t have a boyfriend—that was amazing. “I see your point. So why does an attractive female like yourself not have a man?” Be careful, he warned himself, digging could get him into a lot of trouble.

He had an angle, she was sure of it, all men did. If he weren’t so uptight looking, she’d simply assume he was flirting and let him down quickly. But there was no way this guy was interested in her. She was clearly not his type; that’s probably why he spent so much time laughing at her. Still, there was no reason not to answer his question. “Frankly put, because I’m smarter than most men out there. I know all their games because I’ve either played them or been played by them. And I don’t have the patience to wait for boys to grow into men.”

So. Her explanation about why Jack had to be a man and her clever wall of defense made it perfectly clear. She’d been burned before. He wondered briefly what idiot had been stupid enough to hurt her.

But that really didn’t matter, because he had no intention of making the same mistake.

“Thank goodness it’s Friday,” Reka moaned as the bartender put her brightly colored appletini in front of her. She and Tacoma were at their favorite Friday night happy hour spot near the Village, relaxing, or at least she was trying to relax. Tacoma, on the other hand….

“Maybe he likes you,” he said after sipping at his white wine.

Reka almost choked on her own drink as she cut her eyes at Tacoma. “Don’t play. You know damned well a man like that wouldn’t be interested in me.”

Tacoma loosened his tie and grimaced. “Why? There’s nothing wrong with you.”

Reka had removed her scarf and unbuttoned the first few buttons on her blouse the minute they’d walked into the bar. This was a laid-back atmosphere; she didn’t have to be the consummate professional here. “Oh, I know there’s nothing wrong with me. I’d be a good catch for any man. Any man the same type as me, I mean. He’s blue blood, old money, suit and tie. And I’m—”

“An attractive black woman, newly graduated from college and independent,” Tacoma finished for her. He was in a slight state of shock. He’d never seen Reka this way before. Reka was the most self-assured person he’d ever known. Whatever you told her she couldn’t do, she did, and did it so well you were left looking like a fool. But ever since leaving the office she’d been talking about the IT guy, who she practically refused to call by his name, and the way he’d asked her so many personal questions. As if she couldn’t read the signs.

“I know all that, Tacoma.” She rolled her eyes. “But I’m not from his world. I’m from a different crop all together.” She ran her fingertip absently around the rim of her glass. “Besides, you know I’m not interested in relationships. So this entire conversation is pointless.”

“Who said anything about a relationship? It sounds to me like he was just trying to get to know you better. What’s so wrong with that?”

“Nothing,” she said quickly, and then let out a heavy sigh. “Everything. He’s too old for me, and he’s all distinguished and polished. Look at me, I’m sitting in a bar on a Friday night. Do you really think Mr. IT Guy would be caught in a bar during happy hour?”

Tacoma would have answered but as his line of vision traveled just over Reka’s shoulder he spotted the subject of their conversation and smiled. “To tell you the truth, I wouldn’t be surprised if he walked right through that door at this very moment.” Taking another sip of his wine, he tapped Reka on the shoulder and pointed towards the door.

Reka shifted in her seat to see what Tacoma was pointing at and had to catch her breath when she watched the familiar frame making his way towards them. What the hell was he doing here?

“So this is where the staff meets after work?” Khalil said, taking the empty seat beside Reka. “Thanks for inviting me, Tacoma.”

Reaching behind her, Khalil shook Tacoma’s hand. Reka shot Tacoma a heated look, and his smile brightened.

“No problem. After reading those raunchy emails all day I figured you’d need to unwind.” And after having lunch with Reka and hearing all about the big bad IT guy, Tacoma knew there was something going on between those two and wanted to witness it for himself. The way Reka’s shoulders had squared and her usual banter had ceased, he figured he was pretty close to the mark. There was definitely some chemistry going on. The question was, would either of them act on it?

“I’ll have a rum and coke, please.”

Reka looked up at Khalil, who was still wearing his suit jacket and tie. Another sign that he was distinguished and out of her league. Even Tacoma loosened his tie after five. “You drink rum and coke?”

Khalil glanced at her. He’d noted the change in her demeanor when he’d approached. She wasn’t thrilled with his arrival. This woman was going to be a challenge. In all his years of dating he’d never had to work hard to impress a woman. Since all the women he’d dated already knew who he was and what he had, they were impressed from the moment he said hello.

But Reka didn’t seem so easily impressed. Khalil took that as a good sign. “What am I supposed to drink?” He looked over at her glass. “That’s cute, but looks a little too prissy for me.”

Reka shrugged. “I don’t know. I kind of had you pegged for a wine kind of guy, like Tacoma here.”

Khalil, who’d been taking a sip of the drink in question, choked slightly at her words. Did that mean she thought he was gay? That was a possibility he hadn’t considered and would not hesitate to rectify.

Something in the way he looked at her must have given away his thoughts because she grinned. “I don’t mean it that way.”

With a napkin Khalil wiped his mouth. He liked her smile. It lifted her already high cheekbones and caused those exotic eyes to twinkle. He decided then and there that he wanted her to smile at him more often, and only at him.

“I’m glad you didn’t mean it that way.”

Tacoma emptied his glass. “There’s nothing wrong with being that way. Half the male population is. They’re just too egotistical to admit it.”

“Oh gracious, we’ve ruffled his feathers.” Reka turned and put a hand on Tacoma’s thigh. “You know I love you, darling. But you are different from most men I know.”

“You’re damned right I’m different. I’m better than those jerks.” Tacoma smiled down the bar at Khalil. “Excluding you, of course.”

Khalil tried to suppress a grin. “Of course.”

“So what about those messages? Did you see the one that came just before we left?” Tacoma asked Khalil.

“I saw it and its attachment,” Khalil said, remembering the message vividly.

I purchased this for Jill today and wondered what you thought. I figured a thong was a good idea, but tell me, what color do you like the best?

Below Jack’s signature line were pictures of a black, a gold and a white thong, all outlined with feathery fringes that made the garments look more like costume accessories than underwear. Khalil frowned.

“What? You don’t like thongs?” Tacoma asked.

Reka smacked his thigh, giving him a look that said she did not want to have this discussion in front of the IT guy.

Khalil didn’t miss the implication and looked directly at Reka. “To the contrary, I love a thong, on the right woman, that is.”

“Ain’t that the truth,” Tacoma slapped a palm on the bar, “because everything’s not made for every
body
.” He emphasized body by making a wide motion with his hands.

Khalil grinned. Reka rolled her eyes.

“This is why those messages need to stop. From the moment Tacoma got that message he had joke after joke. I’m glad payroll was done before he got the message, else none of us would get paid next week,” Reka said in an exasperated tone.

Khalil had decided earlier today that he liked Tacoma. The guy was a riot, and was very helpful in revealing things about Reka that Khalil suspected she would never have divulged. He’d sensed right away that Tacoma and Reka were very close, so he figured he’d found himself a pretty good ally when the small-framed gentleman had waltzed into his office this afternoon. It hadn’t taken Khalil two seconds to figure out that Tacoma was fishing for information about him, and because he hoped Tacoma would take the information back to Reka, he readily gave it.

“Well, maybe Jack was trying to give you an idea of what to do with that paycheck next week? You know, a little lingerie shopping.” Khalil watched her carefully, wondering what she was going to say next. He’d been slightly disappointed with the way she’d stopped talking since his arrival. He’d traveled to this bar just to hear her voice again, just to be near her again. It would be a shame if she clammed up and he’d made a wasted trip.

His look startled her. It wasn’t reserved or distinguished; it was downright hot, and she didn’t like it. “No, I don’t think so.”

“Why? You don’t like lingerie?” Khalil asked, mimicking Tacoma’s earlier question.

Reka heard Tacoma chuckle but refused to look his way. “I didn’t say that,” she said tightly.

“Then what are you saying?” Khalil realized he was probably crossing the line, again. He hadn’t known Reka more than a day, and already he was talking to her about such personal things as her underwear. Given the situation, they were bound to have uncomfortable conversations like this, but he had to admit that his line of questioning went well beyond the realm of business.

“I’m saying that I have better things to do with my money than blow it on lingerie.” His eyes raked over her body and she shifted in her seat. Reka took a deep breath. The chemistry between them was potent and she hated it, hated the implications.

“Then maybe someone who doesn’t have better things to do with his money could buy it for you.” Khalil took a chance and let his hand rest on top of hers, his eyes holding her gaze.

Tacoma signaled for another drink, entirely too happy with what he was witnessing. “If I’ve told you once, I’ve told you a million times, never turn down a gift. Especially an expensive one.”

Reka removed her hand from beneath Khalil’s because his touch made her feel things she didn’t want to think about. She made the mistake of meeting his gaze. The dim lighting gave him a devilish look. A look that promised to take her places she’d never dreamed of going. “I don’t need gifts,” she said pointedly.

Khalil got her meaning and leaned back in his seat. She was interesting, like the ultimate dare. She didn’t want to be bothered with men, of that much he was certain. She’d been hurt in the past; her comments had proven that. But he knew she felt the same electrifying attraction that he did. The smoldering heat that she cleverly tried to disguise gave that fact away.

As tiny as that bit of hope was, Khalil grabbed hold of it, determined to let it guide him. He didn’t know the whys of it, he just knew he had to pursue her. Yes, just two weeks ago he’d broken off his engagement to Sonya and yes, he had vowed to take time for himself, but he’d also vowed to find a woman that excited him, who made him think only of her every second of every day. He’d met that woman close to nine hours ago—Reka Boyd.

Before Khalil could speak again the threesome turned into a foursome when a tall, dark-skinned man joined them. From the way Tacoma stood and embraced the man, giving him a peck on the lips, Khalil surmised that this was his partner. He didn’t pay that much attention, figuring to each his own, but when the newcomer to the group also embraced Reka, kissing her as well, his blood began to boil.

Good breeding kept him still and quiet, but his eyes never left the man, not until the moment he was no longer touching Reka.

“Terry, this is Khalil Franklin. He’s the new computer guy at work.” Tacoma happily introduced the two men, holding tightly to the arm that Terry had extended to shake Khalil’s hand.

Khalil stood, pasted a pleasant smile on his face and gripped the man’s hand. “Good to meet you, Terry.”

“Same here. I see they’ve already gotten you into their Friday night ritual.” Terry nodded towards the bar. “No matter how hard I try, I can’t convince these two that sitting at a bar talking about people isn’t attractive.”

Khalil relaxed, realizing with the way Terry gazed at Tacoma that this man was no threat to him. He had absolutely no interest in Reka; he only had eyes for Tacoma. “I don’t know, we’ve been having a pretty good time. Wouldn’t you say so, Reka?”

Dammit, she’d hoped with the new male arrival it would eliminate the need for him to talk to her at all. His closeness caused her body to betray her mind, although, if she had to be truly honest with herself, there was more than Khalil’s quiet sexual allure that agitated her. “Oh yeah, we’re having a jolly ole time.” She signaled for another drink.

“Why don’t you join us?” Khalil offered politely. In truth, he simply wanted to be alone with Reka. She’d bewitched him. In the span of about nine hours he’d met her, verbally sparred with her and, now, was totally entranced by her. But that would have to wait until another time. For right now, he was content just to be sitting beside her. While he waited for Terry to answer, he downed his drink. A quick vision of Reka in those thongs they were previously discussing had caused his throat to go dry.

Terry smiled graciously. “Maybe some other time. I’ve actually come to whisk Tacoma off to dinner plans that I just made. Maybe you two would like to join us?” he offered.

“Yeah, that’s a great idea. C’mon and go to dinner with us,” Tacoma insisted.

Khalil could eat, and as he always said, he never passed up a meal. But one glance at Reka told him she’d truly detest that idea. And since he was trying to get on her good side, he figured he’d earn brownie points by turning the offer down before her. “Nah, I think I’m just going to hang out here for a little while longer, then head home.”

Reka was shocked. She’d absolutely expected him to think it was a good idea. Momentarily she was at a loss for words. But she quickly rebounded. “You know, I’m kind of tired. I think I’m just going to head home.” The IT guy could sit here and drink by himself.

Tacoma passed Khalil a look, then said, “Okay, then I’ll see you in the morning.” He patted Reka on the shoulder and dug in his pocket to pay for his drinks.

Khalil held up a hand. “I’ll take care of it,” he told Tacoma. “Thanks for inviting me.”

Tacoma smiled. “Anytime.” His smile wilted a bit as Reka glanced at him. “Don’t be late. I want to get to the stores early tomorrow. Do you need a wake up call?” he asked her, quickly changing the subject.

Reka frowned. “No, I don’t need you to wake me up. I’ll meet you at the subway station at ten.”

“Cool. I’ll see you at the office on Monday, Khalil.”

Khalil nodded. “See you on Monday.”

The men shook hands, and then Khalil and Reka were alone.

She drummed her fingers on the bar and decided she was making too much of this minor attraction to him. So what if he had a really good body and dressed really nice and smelled even better? Her own peace of mind was more important. Besides, she wasn’t his type, she reminded herself.

“So why don’t you have a hot date with your girlfriend tonight?” she asked casually.

Khalil folded his arms over his chest. “I thought you said when you wanted to know something you just asked.” He valiantly kept the smile from his lips. She wouldn’t like being mocked.