THAT MAN: Holiday Box Set Books 1-5

by Nelle L’Amour

  I felt my cheeks flare. In retrospect, it was a really dumb-ass thing to do.

  Jaime took a sip of soda straight from the bottle and calmed down. “Man, you’re doing it all wrong, Blakester. The way to a girl’s G-spot is through her heart. You’ve got to romance her. Compliment the way she looks. Buy her presents. Come to her rescue.”

  I digested Jaime’s words. I’d done all those things. Well, except for the presents. Maybe I had to work at it harder. Except there was still that one little problem…

  “Jay-Z, she works for me. I’m her boss.”

  Jaime’s eyes widened with surprise. “That does make it a little harder.”

  A little harder? He had way too many Cheerios on his brain.

  “Do you have a company fraternization policy?”

  I told him that Conquest Broadcasting frowned upon inter-office relationships but didn’t forbid them as long as employees maintained transparency with Human Resources. Most of them, however, had ended up in disaster—with one or both of the individuals quitting their job or getting fired. There was too much riding on the line. Jennifer McCoy had a bright future ahead of her. I didn’t want her to get fired. And I didn’t want her to quit. The bottom line: I didn’t want to lose her in any way possible. I wanted her to be mine.

  “I hope you don’t mind. I invited her to lunch because I want you to meet her,” I said as Marge returned with the rest of our order. She plunked our sandwiches and the fries down on the table and then attended to the twins.

  “Here you go, cutie-pies.” She set the bagels and plastic bowls of stewed carrots on their high chair trays. The twins flailed their little arms with excitement and instantly reached for the bagels.

  With the babies contently chewing on their circles of dough, Jaime and I dug into our thick pastrami sandwiches. Man, it was good. Worth the coronary it might give me. On my next bite, my heart skipped a beat. Jennifer was heading toward us. A smile lit up her face and her eyes sparkled. I swallowed quickly.

  “Hi,” she said brightly when she got to our table. Our eyes made contact. I could feel a current of electricity pass between us.

  Jaime rose from his seat, and I introduced them.

  He shook her hand. “A pleasure to meet you, Jennifer. Blake has told me so much about you.”

  Behave, Jay-Z. Just like me, he could be a cocky bastard. I was half-expecting him to say something like, “Your tits are even more perfect in person.” I held my breath. Thank fucking God, he didn’t. He was behaving like a gentleman.

  She smiled again. “Same here.” Her eyes shifted to the twins and her warm smile broadened. “And who do we have here?”

  “These are my twins—Paulette and Payton.” Jaime’s eyes glinted with paternal pride. Payton was the spitting image of Jaime with his dimpled chin and crown of golden brown curls. Paulette, in turn, looked just like Gloria with her full ruby lips and platinum locks. Both had Jaime’s denim blue eyes.

  “Oh my God. They’re adorable!” She waved at them. “Hi.”

  Indeed, they were in their matching circus-print rompers and flaunting big dimpled smiles. Balls. And so was she. I admired how at ease she was with Jaime and the babies.

  “Have a seat,” I told her, gesturing to the one to my left.

  “If you don’t mind, I need to run to the ladies’ room. I’ll be right back.”

  “She’s hot,” Jaime mouthed as soon as she was gone.

  “I know.” My stomach knotted. “It fucking kills me she’s with that douchebag.”

  “Hang in there. I saw the way she looked at you. Trust me, she’s hot for you.”

  “From your lips to God’s ears as my father would say.”

  Jennifer returned quickly. She scanned the menu while Marge hovered over her. “I want the most unhealthy, least vegan thing you have.”

  “A hot pastrami sandwich,” Jaime and I shouted out in unison.

  “Sounds good. I’ll have one and could I also please have a cherry Coke.”

  God, she was refreshing. A real girl who ate real food. So different from my Botoxed supermodel hook-ups who ate nothing but a bunch of lettuce leaves.

  I reminded myself this was a business lunch. I turned to Jennifer.

  “Jennifer, tell Jaime about your idea for the daytime.”

  I listened without interrupting while she explained her vision of airing telenovelas based on popular erotic romance novels. She was articulate, concise, and passionate. A perfect pitch. I was impressed. But as good as her pitch was, I was sure my best bud would find it absurd.

  When she was done, a smile whipped across his face. Holy shitballs. Just like my father, he went for her idea. “That’s brilliant. You have to pitch my wife, Gloria.”

  Jennifer lifted a brow. “Gloria?”

  “Jaime’s wife is the founder and CEO of Gloria’s Secret,” I chimed in, practically creaming in my pants at the thought of Gloria buying ad time on SIN-TV despite my skepticism and displeasure over the fact that Ms. McCoy had won another victory.

  Her face glowed with excitement. “Wow! I’d love to. I’ll put together a PowerPoint.”

  “That’s an excellent idea. I’d like you do that quickly.” My tone was very businesslike and masked any feelings I had about her.

  “I’ll start on it the minute I get back to the office. But the presentation may have to wait until after the first of the year. We’re doing focus groups, and I’d like to include the findings.”

  Damn those focus groups. They could ruin everything. Then again, they could prove that I was right. That there was no place for women’s erotica on SIN-TV.

  Jaime took a slug of his Dr. Brown. “I’m sure that would be just fine. Gloria loves focus groups, and right now, she’s crazy busy with Christmas just around the corner. And then we’re all going to Hawaii over the holidays.”

  Jennifer was beaming. “Great. I look forward to meeting her.” She stole one of our fries. “Jaime, did Blake tell you? I was at the opening of your father’s painting retrospective.”

  “No, he didn’t.” He shot me a sheepish look.

  “I was going to introduce you to her, but she split early with her boyfriend.” I put a special snarky emphasis on the word “boyfriend.”

  A small frown tugged at her lips. “I’m sorry I couldn’t stay longer. But I just want to tell you I was blown away by your father’s paintings. He was so talented.”

  Jaime broke into wide but slightly melancholic smile. He loved his father dearly and was devastated when he took his life. Jaime had made it a lifetime goal to exhibit his father’s paintings and share his talent with the world.

  “Thank you. That means so much to me. Did you have a favorite painting?”

  Jennifer’s green orbs glimmered. “Yes, I loved The Kiss.”

  The Kiss. That kiss. My blood flooded with lust. I so fucking wanted those edible lips back on mine.

  “That was my favorite painting too,” I chimed in softly, remembering the way she’d looked the other night in her little black dress and the profound way that painting had affected her. I had been on the verge of spinning her around, taking her in my arms, and crashing my lips on hers—giving her another kiss she’d never forget—when damn Kat showed up and ruined the moment. And then fucking Dickwick came along.

  Jennifer turned to look at me. Feeling her eyes on me, I met her gaze. Neither of us blinked. I would have given a million bucks to know what was going on in that pretty head of hers. Only one thing was for sure: sparks were flying. I could see them. Maybe Jaime was right. She did have a thing for me. Before either of us could say a word, Jennifer’s sandwich arrived along with the Coke. I watched as she took a long sip of the bubbling soda through the straw. She closed her eyes and moaned, “Mmm.” My cock flexed beneath the table. She was having that effect on me yet again.

  “Eat your sandwich before it gets cold,” ordered Jaime.

  Her mouth came up from the straw. She did as bid, taking a hearty bite of it.

  “This is delic
ious.”

  Yes, it was delicious, but I was only hungry for her. I wanted to consume her, every bit of her. Savor every ounce of flesh. Run my tongue from those lush lips all the way to her sweet pussy. Swirl it around. Lick and lap. I just knew it would taste of cherries and vanilla.

  The memorable ring of Jaime’s cell phone hurled me out of my fantasy. He had it set to the song, “Toi et Moi,” a duet sung in French by Charles Aznavour and Céline Dion. This song obviously had a special meaning to him, but he’d never told me the significance, even when I’d asked him. His eyes lit up when he gazed at the caller ID.

  “It’s Gloria. I have to take this… Hi, angel.”

  “Angel” was Jaime’s term of endearment for his wife. While he chatted with her, everything about him changed. His voice softened, his eyes grew hooded, and smiles replaced smirks. He went from businessman and friend to husband and lover. A cocktail of envy and unease seeped through my veins.

  “I’m here with Blake, the babies, and his new development executive. She’s come up with an amazing idea for a block of programming targeted at women. You have to hear it. You’re going to love it.”

  He gave us a thumbs up, indicating that Gloria would indeed be open to a pitch. Jennifer shot me triumphant smile, which I returned with a smirk. Sandwiched between his twins, Jaime turned to each of them. “Mommy wants to tell you how much she loves and misses you.” He held the cell phone to each baby’s ear, one after the other. Their chubby-cheeked faces lit up upon hearing Gloria’s voice.

  “Give Mommy a smoochie.” Jaime placed the phone to each of the twins’ pursed mouths. They each made a loud, smacking sound. I swear, it was the cutest damn thing I’d ever seen. He put the phone back to his ear and wrapped up the call. His final words: “I love you, angel.”

  I. Love. You. Three little words I had never said to a woman. That’s because I’d never loved one. Yes, I’d fucked many. But I’d loved none. I turned to observe Jennifer.

  She wore a wistful smile. I’d heard her say them to her fiancé. Had he said them back? Of course, he had. Countless times. The thought made me hate him more. And then, the hatred gave way to hallow sadness. My defenses went up. Maybe I just lusted for Jennifer. Wanted her because I couldn’t have her. Because she belonged to another.

  Jaime’s voice propelled me out of my sudden gloom. “Hey, guys. I have to run to the little boys’ room. Would you mind keeping an eye on the babies for a sec?”

  “Of course,” responded Jennifer instantly.

  “Thanks.” Jaime jogged to the back of the restaurant. I guess he really needed to take a leak. The babies turned their little heads and tracked him. Wouldn’t you know it, the minute he disappeared, the two of them simultaneously burst into loud wails. Fuck.

  “The poor little things. They have separation anxiety.” Leaping out of her chair, Jennifer unstrapped Paulette from the high chair and lifted her into her arms. Big fat tears poured down her sweet, angelic face, her rosebud lips quivering. Walking around in a circle, Jen gently shook the wailing baby and planted little kisses on her silky scalp. There was something about her holding and kissing the baby that aroused me. My skin prickled and my cock twitched.

  “Shh. Daddy’s going to be right back. C’mon, let’s play a little game.” Managing to hold the baby in one arm, she put her other hand to her face and played peek-a-boo. To my amazement, Paulette’s wails morphed into whimpers, and before long, a smile splayed on her face. Meanwhile, Payton’s wails grew louder and his face beet-red.

  “Blake, hold her.” She handed me the happy baby.

  “What should I do?” Panic gripped me. I’d never held a baby. Not even my sister’s twins.

  “Bounce her up and down. Make funny faces. Even sing to her. Think of something.”

  My mind raced, and then the memory of an episode of House flashed through my mind. Bouncing the baby lightly with my knees, I pretended to be a series of animals. “Look, Paulette. I’m a horse.” I made a funny neigh, putting everything I had into it, just the way House had. And then I pretended I was a sheep and baahed. The baby was in hysterics. The laughing kind.

  “You like that, baby girl, don’t you?” Her laughter was infectious. It made me laugh too.

  I did another and another. Man, I was a fucking genius. A natural born children’s entertainer. There was no sound more horrible than a baby crying. But there was no sound more beautiful than a baby laughing. Well, maybe with one exception. A woman coming.

  My gaze shifted to Jennifer. She had managed to calm down Payton. Smiling, she looked my way.

  “It’s really a shame. You could have had a career in children’s entertainment.”

  I snorted. “Yeah, right.”

  “Right.”

  We held each other’s gazes. The air between us sparked with electricity and warmth. I could have stared at her all day.

  “Sorry I took so long.” After ten long minutes, Jaime was back. Guess he had to take a dump too.

  “Everything okay?” he asked, taking Payton from Jennifer.

  “They were little angels,” she replied as he strapped the little guy back in his high chair. Taking Paulette from me, she followed suit. I’d learned something about my little tiger today. She was a natural born mother.

  For the first time in my almost thirty years, the idea of having children was appealing to me. The thought of having them with Jennifer made my heart do little flips. I could picture a den full of little cubs.

  A minute later, Jennifer’s cell phone rang. She pulled it out of her bag and answered it. “Oh, hi, Bradley.”

  In a nano-second, my fantasy blew up in smoke.

  Operation Dickwick was back in business.

  Chapter 17

  Jennifer

  More than anything, I wanted to impress my boss, Blake Burns. And prove to him I was right about the programming slate I wanted to develop. Immediately after lunch, I started on my PowerPoint, gathering images and reviews of various books in one folder and available sales data in another. I was so excited about pitching Gloria Zander. Her lingerie chain, Gloria’s Secret, was one of the largest retailers in the world. Her support of my proposed SIN-TV daytime block could make a big difference in terms of its viability and success.

  By late afternoon, my heart was no longer into it. It was somewhere else. My mind had wandered. I couldn’t stop thinking about Blake. Lunch with him and Jaime had been so much fun. When I saw him playing with little Paulette, my heart totally melted. It had shown a whole other side of him. Okay, let’s cut to the chase. Despite his annoying skepticism, I had a full-blown crush on my boss. The way a schoolgirl has on a teacher, though being home schooled, I could only imagine what that felt like.

  Heart flutters?

  Shortness of breath?

  Lightheadedness?

  Tingles?

  Fantasies?

  Yes, all of the above. I even had his monogrammed hankie still tucked away in my purse.

  I could tell Blake liked me. We shared some kind of chemistry. I aroused him and he aroused me. The thought made me quiver. Enough. Taking a much needed break, I opened my Hollywood Reporter. My eyes widened and my heart stuttered. Staring me in the face was a photo of Blake and one of his blond bimbos taken at a recent movie premier. A bell went off in my head. Ding! Ding! Ding! Reality check: this man was a player. Someone who hung out with gorgeous supermodels and starlets. And who had a new one in his bed every night of the week. He probably was just taunting me. It was all some kind of egotistic power trip. But why was I so foolishly letting him get to me? I was engaged. And hello… he was my boss. I had a career at stake. And a fiancé who was committed to me though we were going through a rough patch. The bottom line: I had to stop thinking about him and just focus on my job. And my upcoming wedding. I tossed the trade magazine into my waste paper basket and went back to my PowerPoint.

  Six thirty rolled around. The taping of Wheel of Pain started at seven. Not wanting to be late, I shut down my computer and packed up
my bags. On my way out of my office, I stopped by my bookshelf and pulled out the dictionary my father had given me. I looked up the word “infatuation.” “Foolish, short-lived affection for another person.”

  I half-smiled with relief. My infatuation with Blake Burns would soon pass. Yet, while I walked over to the soundstage where Wheel was taping, my emotions were in a tailspin.

  I wasn’t looking forward to overseeing this raunchy game show.

  Blake had given me a list of things to watch for. And he’d made me watch two insufferable episodes. It was more than watching sex. It was a mixture of watching humiliation and human suffering. He’d also instructed me to not put up with any bullshit from the producer, Don Springer, who could be an asshole. That part of the job I thought I could handle.

  When I arrived at the studio, the three competing couples, already undressed, were testing the Wheel of Pain. The Wheel resembled a small Ferris wheel with an attached capsule that was big enough to accommodate each of the couples in a variety of positions. Two cameramen were operating cranes while a third one was experimenting with a hand-held camera. Other production personnel were scattered across the set.

  My eyes gravitated to a man who was pacing the floor and shouting orders. Curse words spilled from his mouth. I was sure he was the producer. Don Springer.

  In his late forties, he was bronzed, balding, and beer-bellied. He wore a tight black open shirt with straining buttons, and jeans that sat low below his paunch. A thick gold chain hung around his neck, and a large diamond ring adorned his pinky. He was in a word: a sleazebag.

  My belly bubbling with nerves, I sauntered up to him and introduced myself.

  He gave me the once-over with his dark beady eyes. “You look familiar, sweetheart.”

  I cringed at the word “sweetheart.” “I’m sure we’ve never met.”

  “I never forget a beautiful face. Or body.” His eyes lingered on places he had no right to be. And then he took a sharp sniff. Drugs?

  “That smell. I know it. You smell like cherries and cream.”