Top Notch
Copyright © 2020 by Nicole Richard
All Rights Reserved
No part of this book may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the author except in the case of brief quotations in a book review.
This is the work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.
Editing and Proofreading:
The Proof is in the Reading
My Brothers Editor
Julie Deaton, Deaton Author Services
Cover:
More Than Words Graphic Design
Formatting:
Champagne Book Design
TABLE OF CONTENTS
TITLE PAGE
COPYRIGHT
ALSO BY NICOLE RICHARD
ABOUT THE BOOK
PROLOGUE
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CHAPTER TWENTY
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
CHAPTER THIRTY
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
CHAPTER FORTY
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE
CHAPTER FORTY-SIX
CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT
CHAPTER FORTY-NINE
CHAPTER FIFTY
CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE
CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO
CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE
CHAPTER FIFTY-FOUR
CHAPTER FIFTY-FIVE
CHAPTER FIFTY-SIX
EPILOGUE
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
ALSO BY NICOLE RICHARD
The She’s Beautiful Series
The Beauty of Grace
Waiting on Faith
Reclaiming Us
Between Him and Us
She’s Beautiful Collection Box Set
ABOUT THE BOOK
LEVI MONTGOMERY is charismatic and sexy as sin. First baseman for one of major league baseball’s hottest teams, he’s lived most of his adult years playing the field. But the time has come for him to work just as hard off it as he has on it.
That is, if he wants the girl.
And for the first time, he wants the girl.
He wants ROWAN LANDRY.
A top-notch civil engineer, she’s made her place in this so-called man’s world. Rowan knows her worth, and she isn’t stopping there.
Nothing will stand in her way of what she’s worked so hard for . . . until he actually does.
With chemistry so undeniable, it’s no wonder their torrid one-night stand holds enough heat to burn up the sheets. But when a pertinent piece of information complicates things and a make-or-break decision leaves unanswered questions, they come to realize this just might be the final inning.
PROLOGUE
Levi
“It’s negative,” Madison muttered as she walked through my front door.
“And how did they figure that?”
She shrugged as if she couldn’t care less.
Two weeks ago, when she told me she might be pregnant, when I saw those two pink lines, I forced myself to man up. Went through the motions of telling myself we could do this. Not that I had much of a choice.
“But the test said it was positive,” I added as an afterthought, dumbfounded by what she had just told me.
“They’re not foolproof,” she criticized, her voice laced with sarcasm.
How did I ever find this woman attractive? Prior to this, Madison was a mellow and sweet woman. The kind of girl to go with the flow.
She crossed her arms over her chest, her eyes full of relief and not an ounce of remorse. How could I have ever been okay with her being the mother of my child? On the heels of that thought, my skin crawled. This kind of shit had always been one of the reasons I never let myself get too serious with any one woman. Games. They all liked to play games. I was a professional ballplayer and I knew all too well what happened at the end of each game. There was a winner. And there was a loser.
“You gotta give me something here, Madison. Foolproof or not, two pink lines don’t just appear on a pregnancy test for no goddamn reason.”
“What do you want me to say?” Fire heated her eyes, infuriation seeping through. “Are you saying I’m making this shit up?”
I hate to admit it, but the thought had given me pause. “I’m not saying anything. I’m asking, how does this happen, because as far as I know, those tests are usually pretty accurate.” Weren’t they? At least according to my sister, they were; she should know, she had twins.
“Usually, yes,” she hissed. “But my doctor believes my allergy medication could have given the test a false-positive. Again, another reason they’re not foolproof.”
“Believes? So, she’s not even sure?”
“He,” she corrected.
“You have a new doctor?” I asked, baffled. The last I knew she had a female doctor.
“Does it matter?”
The fuck if I knew. What I did know was that my head was spinning. Two weeks ago, there were two pink lines and now there weren’t. Furthermore, didn’t doctors gather facts and give a diagnosis based on evidence? Unless . . . she was making it all up? Could she be so deceiving to pull a fast one on me? But if she was, what was in it for her?
Morbidly confused, I stared harder—longer at the woman in front of me. At her perfect, long, deep-red waves falling past the middle of her back, her faded blue eyes I’d grown used to seeing almost every day we weren’t on the road, that little hoop nose ring I found sexy, wondering if she was giving me the truth—or playing me.
Something about this whole damn thing didn’t add up.
“Not that any of it matters anyway. I’m leaving.”
The fuck? She’s not pregnant and now she’s leaving me?
Drawing in slow and steady breaths, I controlled the tone of my voice and lied, “I figured.” I had no idea what was happening. Was finding out you weren’t pregnant a sufficient reason to leave your boyfriend?
Half of me was relieved, the other half royally pissed; add my wounded pride into the mix and I had half a mind to kick Madison out and slam the door in her face. Had I not listened to the advice of my sister, I probably wouldn’t be in this predicament. Against my better judgment, I had given commitment a try.
An honest to God try.<
br />
Complete monogamy.
And look where that got me.
What a fucking joke.
“So, that’s it?”
She didn’t answer.
“You fucking walk, just like that?” My teeth clenched.
She pressed her lips in a thin line and looked away.
Standing there staring, unblinking, waiting for what, I had no fucking clue. I was drawing blanks and then it dawned on me.
Until Madison, my relationships were strictly about sex. The physical minus the emotion kept things on an even playing field. Every other woman I’ve ever slept with knew what base I stood on. But with her, I thought it could be different. I gave one hundred percent to the relationship. Or so I thought.
I contemplated my next question; it would open up a whole new can of worms, but now was the time to hash shit out.
Careful in my approach, I asked, “Is this because I haven’t told you ‘I love you’?”
“What do you think?”
“I don’t know what to think!” I huffed out a loud breath, locked my fingers together at the back of my neck, letting my head fall back.
“I never took you for an asshole and look how that turned out,” she spat, and I was taken aback.
I never treated her poorly. I may not have been in love with her, but not once had I been an asshole to her. I respected her. In the six months we were together, I gave her everything she could have ever wanted: jewelry, vacations, shopping trips, the whole nine yards.
Just not my heart.
She toyed with the diamond hoop earring on her left ear.
“I’m trying, Madison. I really am. And I’m sorry, but I don’t just toss those words around,” I sighed, feeling defeat settling in. “I never have, and you knew this from the very beginning.” I refused to say it unless I wholeheartedly meant it. “I thought you were okay with how things were. How we were.”
“Forgive me for wanting more,” she said. “And what girl in their right mind wants to have a baby with a man who doesn’t love her?”
“But you just said you’re not pregnant. Did you get rid of it?” I whispered, my mind jumping to conclusions, hoping she wouldn’t say yes. If she did, I would fucking lose it.
She flinched. “No, I didn’t get rid of it.” The look on her face said she was appalled I’d even ask such a thing. “What kind of person do you think I am?”
Right now, I have no idea.
Growing up in a home full of love, and two parents, set the bar high. I’d doubted I’d ever find the kind of love that my mom and dad shared. Times were different. People didn’t get married for the right reasons anymore, and at the first signs of turmoil, they’d called it quits. I wasn’t that man. And unless I honestly felt it, I wouldn’t say three very important words to appease a woman.
And that’s all it took to make sense.
This was all a ploy, a means of having fun on someone else’s dime, but shit backfired, confirming I never meant jack shit to her besides the fame and money—a major perk when tying down a major league ballplayer. And she probably thought if she wasn’t pregnant, I’d eventually grow tired and replace her. Or maybe she had grown tired of me and was ready to move on to the next sucker distracted by her beauty.
How could I have been so stupid—and blind?
“Goodbye, Levi.”
That’s it! She’s not even going to shed a goddamn tear? Am I not at least worth that much?
I pressed my lips in a thin, tight line, my insides seething. I nodded, looking anywhere but directly at her. I couldn’t afford to give her anymore of me.
She walked right past me and out my front door.
With one step back, I closed my front door and that short chapter in my life. And when I finally learned the truth to why she left me, I’d revert back to my old ways, where I was happy and life was a lot less complicated.
Easy, like the women I kept.
CHAPTER ONE
Rowan
I was going to be late for work. Again.
Oversleeping allowed me approximately twenty-four minutes to grab a shower, get dressed, eat something, and drive the twenty minutes it normally took to get to work, which was more than likely going to take at least sixty, after checking my traffic app and seeing there was an accident in the southbound lane. Shit!
I didn’t have time for this if I was going to prove to management I was ready and qualified to move up. To oversee projects, negotiate contracts with clients, and lead an entire project to fusion. And if chief engineer was my end game, I needed to prove I was worthy—and dammit, I was worthy. Anyone with a brain could find the proof in my billable hours or by the rolls of plan sets scattered across the guest bedroom that doubled as my “home office.”
I hurried to the kitchen and put on a pot of coffee. Rushed back to my bedroom and grabbed a shower, which in actuality was more of a rinse, grateful I had set my outfit out the night before. That should spare me at least five minutes.
Out of the shower, I twisted my towel-dried hair into a low bun, slapped on a thin coat of moisturizer, and swiped two coats of mascara on my lashes. Lastly, I dressed in haste, leaving me to make it out the door in record time.
But the traffic wasn’t so forgiving.
“Morning, Rowan,” our administrative assistant and my friend, Kelsey, greeted, handing me a latte. By that act alone, I could have kissed her. And it was then I recalled the forgotten pot of coffee I had started before my shower. Shit.
“Thank you so much. You’re the best.” I took a sip and whisked my unpunctual ass down the short hallway to my cubicle. I set the latte on my desk, powered on my computer, and checked my schedule. It was already ten past nine. I had a client conference call with a long-winded client and my one-year evaluation with HR, not to mention the Bowers project that took up most of my time.
Between that, there was the set of construction plans I needed to track down from one of the junior engineers, subdivision comments to address, and a preliminary engineering report to review. So, when my boss, Spencer Harris, unexpectedly cleared his throat, my automatic but unwarranted reaction was to internally cringe. It didn’t matter that we were best friends and had been prior to my gaining employment. With Spencer, friends were friends and work was work.
Besides, I hated that sound altogether. More so on days that I showed up late.
“Morning, Rowan,” he greeted pleasantly, standing tall exuding professionalism. He wasn’t your typical pocket protecting nerdy engineer, quite the opposite actually. More of a modern-day nerd with strikingly handsome features. Why he was still single was beyond me. Not that I was interested.
“Morning, Spence.” I smiled.
“I stopped on my way in, but you weren’t at your desk. You just roll in?”
“Yeah, sorry about that. My alarm didn’t go off and—” I started to explain, but he raised his hand, stopping me.
“Don’t worry about it.”
I gave him a shaky smile and nodded my thanks.
“So, there’s been a slight change in today’s schedule,” he stated evenly, tucked his hands in the front pockets of his black slacks, and squared his shoulders. I couldn’t decipher if it was a good thing or not.
“Oh?” My toes curled into the bottom of my high heels. My body’s automatic response was to go with not.
“Mr. Davenport is in town and would like to meet.”
This can’t be good.
The president of the firm travels from San Diego to Atlanta, clear across the United States and wants to meet. It shouldn’t make me nervous, but it did. Call it getting-called-to-the-principal’s-office syndrome.
“Okay.” I forced a smile and ordered the riot of nerves sloshing through me to calm down. “What time should I make myself available?”
“If you could come to the conference room at ten thirty, we’ll meet there.”
“Can’t. I have a conference call with Martin Spalding on the Bowers project.”
“Okay. What about after
lunch, say two?”
“That works.”
I fought off the urge to ask if I should be worried. If we were no longer meeting with HR for my evaluation, if they felt my work was no longer up to par, but I kept my mouth shut. Maybe they combined meetings and HR would be there as well. Kill two birds with one stone.
Why the hell am I so nervous? Do not sniff your armpits. Do not sniff your armpits.
I was a top-notch civil engineer who prided herself on constantly striving for ways to think outside the box, better myself and the people who surrounded me. If management couldn’t see it, maybe I didn’t belong here. They’d be stupid to get rid of me.
I came to the conclusion that my negligence for being on time was causing me to overreact.
Smiling, Spencer nodded and then jutted his chin toward the plans I had spread out on my work table behind me. “How is the Bowers project coming along?”
“Good. I’m taking a second look at the drainage report, and if all looks good, I’ll submit it to the client by end of the workday on Monday,” I replied confidently, easily slipping into my element. These were the easy things to talk about.
“Perfect. I’ll let you get to it.” He tapped his hand twice on the sturdy partition and left me to my work.
By the time I looked up from the plans on my desk and at the clock on my computer, two hours had passed. My stomach rumbled, reminding me I didn’t grab any breakfast on my way out the door this morning. I pulled my desk drawer open, revealing my stash of snacks where I held a short war of wills with a granola bar and a bag of Cheetos.
It was too early for empty carbs, but I needed sustenance. I tore the wrapper of the granola bar and took a big bite.
“Hey.” Kelsey interrupted my mid-morning snack.
“Hey,” I mumbled back and chewed quickly.
“Did you need help with anything?” She surveyed the mess I had splayed out across the top of my work table. “I’m bored out of my mind and need something to keep me busy.” She angled forward an inch and spoke in hushed tones.
Top Notch (Man on Top Book 1) Page 1