by Ava Alise
I roll over on my side and reach for my drink in total awe that I’m laying out in the sun in the middle of November. It feels like it’s been ages since I was able to do this. Growing up in Georgia, my brothers and I spent a lot of time outdoor year ‘round, but living in NYC for the last five years has taught me to respect the weather. I love everything about NYC and wouldn't move back to Georgia unless the damn world was about to end, but I'm a sucker for moments like this where there’s nothing but nature and peace, a rare thing living in the city. I sigh as I take a long sip from my glass.
Sometime over the next hour I dose off and am awakened with a start as my computer blares with an incoming call. I’m expecting to see Renee, but instead, it’s the Cheshire grin of my twin brother, Cameron.
“Hey, Beanie,” he says.
“Hey, Bum,” I say, returning his smile. “What are you doing up? Isn’t it just after eight a.m. in Cali?”
“Not in Cali anymore.” His screen shakes a bit, and I can tell he’s walking through a room. I squint to try to make out the details.
“Where are you then?”
His smile dances across the screen as he walks then noticeably plops down on a couch in another room. I’m still confused until I hear a familiar voice.
“AUNT KELSA!!” my nephew screeches as his adorable face fills the screen.
“MJ!!!!” I say. “Hey, big kid! When did you start growing so fast?”
“Haha, I’m only four! That’s not too fast.” He laughs.
Michael James, or MJ as we call him, is the son of our twenty-two-year-old baby brother, Chris. Chris got his girlfriend, Shayla, pregnant their senior year of high school. It came as a shock to the family, but, of course, we supported him. Shit happens. Shayla folded under the pressure of being a teenage mother, and Chris stepped up and has pretty much been a single father since MJ turned a year old. I’ve never been more proud of anyone in my life. Don’t get me wrong, he’s the typical play boy who won’t get attached to a girl to save his life, but he shows up where it counts the most. He lives and breathes MJ and makes time for nothing else.
Cam’s face fills the screen again as he walks back down the hall, shutting the door behind him.
“What in hell are you doing in Georgia, Cam?”
“I’m moving back to the East Coast.”
“Really?” I squeal with excitement.
The moment Cameron graduated college, he took off for Europe. He wanted to ‘see the world before he settled in it’ and ended up in Los Angeles for the last two years.
I faintly hear a knock coming from the hotel door so I stand, grabbing my computer, to answer.
“Yep. I missed y'all crazy asses too much,” he says. I smile as I make my way through the hotel room, balancing my computer on one hand.
“Whoa, where the hell are you?! Is that the ocean?” Cam asks, noticing the background. “I just flew in from NYC last night, and you guys are getting hammered.”
I stop in my tracks two feet from the door. “First, why were you in NYC?” I ask. “Secondly, why in the hell didn’t you come to see me?!” I slide open the door and greet the guest services attendant who hands me the extra towel I called for earlier. I smile, whisper a thanks, and go back to scowling at my twin brother.
“I was only in NY for a few hours for a meeting. I planned to stay longer, but the storm was picking up and I didn’t want to get stuck. I’m sorry, Beanie, but it’s okay because you’ll be seeing a lot more of me.”
I cut my eyes into the camera so he can see my displeasure. “What type of meeting?”
“I’m bidding on a space for my photography studio.”
“What?! You’re moving to NY?”
“Yep!”
“Oh my god! That’s great, Cam!” And just like that, I’m a grinning idiot. I hated when he moved to Cali, but I understood his need to find himself and I pushed him to go for it. But I love this news and I can't wait to have him around again.
“It won’t be until after I finalize on a place though, so a few weeks at best. But... I’ve put so much time into finding a place for the business, I haven’t had time to search for a place to live,” he says.
“You can stay with me and Renee until you find a place. I’ll have to firm it up with her first, of course, but I doubt she’ll mind.”
“Damn. Thanks, Beanie. I sure as shit wasn’t looking forward to living in a hotel.”
“Our flat is tiny so you’ll have to take the couch, but I’m sure we can manage,” I say. “I’ll talk to her about it later on tonight and call you then.”
“Thanks, sis. What would I do without you?”
“Probably die.”
“Yeah, probably haha. Speaking of Renee, how is that sexy roommate of yours?
“Nope. The answer is still no, Cam.”
“What?!” He smiles.
“Keep your dirty boy paws off of my bestie.” I shake my head adamantly.
“Dirty boy paws? Really, sis?”
“When’s the last time you had a girlfriend?” I ask, giving him a knowing look.
He smiles. “What does that have to do with anything?”
I glare daggers through the camera, and he concedes.
“Fine. Hands off, but you should know I'm kidding. She's like a sister.”
Sitting on the bed, I chat with him a little longer about his business plans before we end our call, and I take my place back on the balcony.
It's not long before the sound of my cell phone cuts into my peace, yet again. I scramble off the balcony to retrieve it from the charger.
"Hey, Drex, what's up?"
"Kels." His deep, rich voice awakens the butterflies. "I ever tell you how much I love the way my name sounds on your lips?"
I smile.
Stop smiling.
"Haha, what do you want, Drex?"
He laughs. "Jackson just called, he told me to grab you and head up to his penthouse."
"Penthouse? I knew he would be in something awesome. This room is amazing."
"Yea. Mine is pretty nice too. Oh, and he said we need to change out of our ‘stuffy work clothes’ we're off the clock."
"Fine. I'll see you in a minute." I laugh.
I knock on Drexel's door about ten minutes later. The moment his door opens, my mouth goes completely dry. I have always found him sexy in a suit, but this is too much. He's wearing simple beach wear: a tank and a pair of khaki shorts, and I swear I have never seen a shirt look so good before. It hugs him, showing off his broad chest and shoulders. Making it incredibly hard not to stare. He also has tattoos. I would have never guessed it, but both of his shoulders are covered and down to the middle of his arms. I can also see a hint of ink peeking over the collar of his tank.
God, what I would give to see what's underneath right about now.
"Hey." He smiles.
"Hey."
We awkwardly stare at each other, and I can literally feel this stupid crush intensify. Before he was my sexy, smart, filthy mouth crush in a suit, but now I won't be able to get this image of him out of my mind. Or stop imagining tearing that thin shirt off of him and...
"Let me just grab my key, and we can head up," he says.
"Okay," I say.
Thickness surrounds us in the elevator as we stand alone and quiet. Drex enters the access code for the penthouse floor, and we take the short ride in silence. I feel so silly. I've really got to get a hold of this schoolgirl crush. The elevator announces our arrival, and we are immediately greeted by Jackson when the door opens.
"Hey, you two," Jackson says, holding a wine glass.
"Like your rooms?"
"Yea, man, they are great!" Drex says.
"Just beautiful," I add.
"Good." He smiles and turns to lead us to the large sitting area in front of the floor to ceiling windows.
"I thought my view was amazing, but holy crap," I say, peering out at the ocean.
"Yea. I love this room. I try to get it every time I have business here
," Jackson says.
"So, you come here often?" Drex asks as he takes a seat on the couch.
"Often enough. I travel a lot, company keeps me busy. There are a lot of clients who love these Florida designers that I end up here in Miami at least once a quarter."
"Wow. Where else have you been?" I ask, now sitting in my own chair.
"All over. I spend a lot of time in California, Atlanta, Chicago... was in Paris in August."
"Whoa!" Drexel says.
"Nice," I say.
Jackson begins to sit on the couch, but catches himself before he does. "Before I forget..."
He reaches forward and grabs two files and hands one to each of us.
"Inside you will learn about our client and his company, the products he offers and, more importantly, the product we are after."
Drexel and I simultaneously open the envelopes and pull out three sheets of paper. Franklin Short, of Shorts and Specialties, has been in business for thirteen years as an online retailer. Most known for custom-made handbags and other fashion accessories.
"Wait... am I reading this correctly? His handbags are selling for $1,500 and up?!" I ask.
"Those are the wallets," Jackson says, after taking a large gulp from his glass. He then reaches over and points to another area of the document showing me just how much the handbags are, and my mouth drops.
"This guy has to be loaded!" Drexel says.
"Yes. Mr. Short has done well for himself. His stuff sells like crazy in the global markets."
I continue to read over the documents and learn about Jaylou's Designs, the two person design team located here in Miami that specializes in fashion handbags and purses our client wants to work with. Drexel finishes his documents before I do, and we both place them back in the envelope.
"So that's the background information. We will meet with Jaylou's team tomorrow." He brings his glass back to his lips, but stops before drinking, looking back and forth between the two of us.
"You two need to loosen up." He chuckles.
I gaze over at Drexel and then down at myself and notice the stern posture we are both holding. All on business mode.
"Go enjoy your day. Get a drink, go to the beach. Do Miami! Let's meet back here in the morning at ten a.m."
I smile and begin toward the elevator not knowing that by the end of the day, my world will be flipped on its axis.
In true tourist fashion, I drag Drexel to every souvenir shop I find, picking up everything from keychains to painted canvases. We eventually land on the boardwalk with the very seagulls I admired from my balcony, still dancing in the skies searching for food. Jackson was right, a day of sun and shopping was exactly what I needed to loosen up. I'm finally feeling more focused, ready and up for the challenge. I just needed a minute to get out of my head.
The sun has begun to set and all of the party goers are out with drinks in hand and sand-covered bodies. Drexel and I are sitting on a bench in front of an outdoor bar. The beach is beautiful at sunset, but my eyes keep falling on the couple that’s down near the water, making out like it's no one's business. I look away again, as ice cream drips down the cone and onto my hand. Drex watches as I lick it off.
"I can say so much right now." He smiles.
"Be nice." I laugh, clearing the remaining cream from my knuckles. "Ever had sex on the beach?"
"The drink?" His brows crease.
"No, actual sex on the actual beach."
"Never wanted to. Why? You want to wait until it gets dark and go for it?" he says.
"Maybe." I smile, pretending to think it over.
"Are you saying you want to fuck me, sunshine?"
God, yes.
I laugh it off. "Hmmm. Depends on where you’re talking.”
"I'd fuck you anywhere, Kels. Sand, bed, floor... right here, right now."
“Or...” I give him a flirty smirk. “Up against a wall in the shower... car sex can be fun too. I'm told I can be a screamer, but if you’re doing it right, that should happen anyway.”
“Screamer, huh? We'll just have to keep your mouth busy.”
Purposefully, I take a long, slow lick of my ice cream cone. “Oh, I’m sure we can figure something out.”
“You’re the devil," he groans as he watches me pull the thick cream between my lips. I laugh out loud as he loses, yet again, at our dirty little game.
After a quick burger at the bar, we grab a six-pack of beer and head back to the room to prepare for the meeting tomorrow. I watch as his back muscles glide under his shirt, and I have to fight the urge to touch him. He's sexy, he knows it, but damnit, I didn't expect those tattoos. It's like the more I learn about him, the harder it is to stop wanting him. A bit of sexy ink on a hard body is my lady kryptonite. I totally blame Cameron. Before he settled into his photography, he dabbled in tattoo art. Hanging out with him at the shop put me front and center to some of the best tattoo artists in the Georgia. I quickly began to respect the art, and I even got one myself.
I open my hotel door and Drexel carries my bags inside, placing them on the coffee table. Nerves rattle my stomach, and I realize how... alone we will be.
Maybe we should go somewhere more public?
No... we're adults. It's not like there's a library around here anyway, and we respect the boundaries of our work relationship. Complicating things with sex is a dumb move, and we both know it.
I take a deep breath and follow him inside.
“You must really like dolphins,” he says, thumbing through my souvenirs.
“Not really, it’s for Renee.” I say, “She has a thing for sea creatures.”
“Oh.”
“What?” I laugh, joining him on the couch.
“Haha. Nothing.” He looks over the collection again less than adoringly.
“Well, if you think that’s bad, you’d hate our bathroom décor.”
“Let me guess. It’s like SeaWorld exploded?”
“Pretty much.” I chuckle. “I don't mind it though.”
He grins. His eyes linger on mine for a moment, then fall to the case of beer placed in front of him on the coffee table. Grabbing a bottle, he pops it open and takes a swig.
We spend the next thirty minutes looking over notes we have collected, as well as various articles and printouts. I am grateful that EDG isn’t making us compete over the position because, even though I never noticed it before, we are a good team. We feed off of each other, ask questions, interjecting answers. I've always felt most comfortable when he was the other student in the room.
“So, how long were you at Martin Corp?” I ask.
“About a year before you started, right out of college,” he says, not looking up from the stack of notes he’s sorting through. “Do you have anything in digital advertising?”
“Sure.”
I leave him on the couch and run into my bedroom to retrieve my filing bag. Once back, I pull out a large folder titled “Advertising strategies” and begin spreading the documents in neat piles on the coffee table.
“Damn, Kelsa.” He chuckles. “When’s the last time you went out on a date?”
"Shut up. I date, I just believe in hard work... that’s all."
"I see, so you're the hot girl who stays home and reads."
"No...." I laugh, reaching over to grab another beer. "You have me so wrong. I do love a good book, but if I didn't date from time to time, I'd go crazy."
"Go crazy?" He raises a brow. "So, I did have it wrong. You're more of a work, play, and fuck sort of girl."
"What?" I ask.
"You know... you work, you play, you fuck, and repeat." He takes a swig from his bottle. "I'm the same way. I'd probably fucking lose it if I didn't get my hands on something often. Especially with being teased by you at work all week."
The way he just said that causes the butterflies to come back. "Hmm,” I say." That’s fair." I nod once, grabbing my bottle and drinking almost half of my beer.
We go back to the paperwork, mulling over the pack
et Jackson gave us, attempting to absorb everything we can about the two companies. Then we spend an hour with Google to learn the things that weren't in the packet.
Two beers and three articles later, I follow him into the kitchen on the hunt for snacks. The dim light cascades down his body, causing the ink on his arms to stand out. I sit down at the bar as he maneuvers through the space, grabbing a bowl for the chips and dip we picked up earlier. I love how comfortable he is in my room, as if it's his own. My eyes run down the length of his body as I admire him from behind. Maybe being alone with him is a bad idea after all. I can't mess this up. Our jobs are too important. If I fuck him and it sucks, that would be bad, but if I fuck him and it's mind-blowing, that would be worse.
So much worse.
Thanks to Drooling Rob, I still have this insatiable hunger… an itch that has been left unscratched, and mixing beer and eye candy is bad for the diet. The alcohol clouds my thoughts, and I allow my eyes to linger on the hint of abs under his tank top... then across his chest. I take a deep breath and pull my lip into my mouth as I let my eyes travel along his strong shoulders and sexy arms. My lust makes me miss the fact that he’s turned around.
“You’re not allowed to look at me like that and expect me to stay professional,” he says in a husky tone.
My eyes snap to his face, and the embarrassment of being busted creeps in. I wonder how long he watched me checking him out.
I swallow, trying hard to bring the moisture back to my throat. "Your...ink." I say. “It’s pretty sexy.”
“You like tattoos?” he asks, joining me at the counter. He sits the bowl down and motions me over, and extends his arm to give me a full view of his tattoo. I slide in closer and slowly exhale the breath seized in my throat.
"Maybe. What does it all mean?” I reach over and trace my finger along the place where the ink begins on his arm.