A Piece of Me

by Yvette Hines

  A Piece of Me

  Yvette Hines

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  All rights reserved. The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be used or reproduced electronically or in print without written permission by the author.

  A Piece of Me

  Copyright © 2011, Yvette Hines

  Cover Artist: Antwan Williams

  Editor: Andrea Jackson

  Proofer: P.A.

  ISBN 978-1-4658-3639-7

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each reader. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to eStore and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  Dedication

  To my husband, family, friends and my readers, thank you all for your kindness and support. This has been a year of many changes and when I looked up and saw the faithful people standing around me, I knew I was blessed.

  Other Titles by Yvette

  Santa’s Helper

  Speed Dating

  The Marriage Clause

  One Reckless Night

  Holiday Affair

  Take This Man

  Golden Treasure

  Ho, Ho, Ho and a Dom

  Bet on a Mistletoe

  Making the Man

  Lady Justice

  Trusting St. Nick

  Shot at Love

  Internet Rebound

  Timberon Cat Series

  Apprehension Series

  Designed for Love (Reignited Anthology)

  We Go Together (Summer Lovin’ Anthology)

  The Club

  Chapter 1

  “What day are we looking at for the celebration?” Amana’s pen scratched across her legal pad as she made notes and continued with her thoughts, “I will need at least two dates in order to reserve the usual hall we use. The caterer and the DJ shouldn’t be a problem. We haven’t used them in a while, but we’ve given them so much business in the past that they should accommodate any date we give them.”

  Neal waited until his personal assistant lifted her head, her shoulder length black hair layered around her face showcasing her dark brown eyes, before he declared, “I don’t want a party.”

  Her hand that hovered above the tablet in the leather folder lowered and rested onto the paper covered with her neat handwriting. He had given her the folder on her one year anniversary working with him. He picked it out personally and had it engraved with her name. It had been the first of many thanks that he owed her.

  “Mr. Stephens, we always have a party when the sales increase. The shareholders look forward to it.”

  Which Neal knew translated to his employees, because he had always ensured that every person that worked for him was a shareholder in his company. He believed that people gave their all when they were invested in the outcome. It had worked… to a degree.

  “I don’t give a damn what they expect!” Neal tossed the pen in his own hand to his desk and got up, walking to the large picturesque window that allowed him to see across Charlotte’s City Center, all the way to the Lowes Speedway in the distance. His company was nowhere near the tallest building in the city, but the revenue he brought to the state could in no ways be overlooked. In the fifteen years since he’d started his government software security business, he had attained power and clout in his hometown. No one wanted to be protected more than city, state and federal officials.

  “I don’t understand…” Amana’s voice reached him from where she still sat before his desk.

  He knew he’d shocked her. He’d always prided himself on being a generous employer. As a CEO, of security a software company, he’d taken care of business in every level that was important: equal pay, health benefits, shares, on-site fitness center, annual raises, fifty percent daycare reimbursement and much more. But, all of those things had only given him loyalty on paper.

  “What’s so hard to understand that they should be happy with the dividends they’ll get?” Shoving his hand in his pocket, he turned and looked at her.

  Amana’s normally elegant features were drawn in confusion. “Nothing, sir.” In a blink, she relaxed every muscle and took on the appearance of an efficient assistant.

  He’d disappointed her and that knowledge caused the lunch still digesting in his stomach to sour and weigh like a ton inside of him. With a sigh, he crossed the room and placed a hip on the corner of his desk, resting his clasped hands on the raised thigh. “Tell me, Amana, why should I feel benevolent to managers and VPs who a year ago were all too busy fighting over my position while I lay in the hospital and almost destroyed my company with all the in-fighting? I was dying and none of them thought of anything but themselves. I wasn’t a passing thought in anyone’s mind.”

  “You were in mine.” Her voice was barely above a whisper, but it struck him deep in his core.

  But her words weren’t a shock to him. This was something he knew in both thought and physical reality. “I know.” Looking away, he glanced out of his top office window again.

  Almost a year ago, he’d crashed his private jet, barely walking away with his life. After a heated argument with his then current girlfriend about why he wouldn’t propose to her after five years, he’d driven to the private airport and taken off in his jet. He should never have been behind the wheel of a car in the state he was in, let alone up a cockpit.

  Paulette had thrown one accusation after another into his face when he attempted to postpone their expected engagement for another year. She’d stormed out of his house and he’d been five minutes behind her and jumped into his own car.

  It may have been a summer day, but warnings had been going out all day about unexpected thunderstorms on the horizon. However, his mind hadn’t been clear enough to make a rational decision at that time. It had been cluttered with images that were created by Paulette’s words. At the time of the argument, he hadn’t been able to deny them so he’d refused to talk about them.

  The last thing he recalled was the fast moving black clouds surrounding him. He’d awaken in the hospital three weeks later, memories of his descent gone. He discovered that he’d made it close to the airport, but his plane had crashed in a field a mile away. During moments of lucidity, doctors had told him about the destruction his reckless actions had caused to his body: a broken femur, two broken wrists, four fractured ribs, a severely lacerated kidney and multiple bruises and a concussion. In surgery they had placed pins in his body, reset bones, dislodged shrapnel and removed one of his kidneys.

  He would have mended and healed fine, going on to have a healthy, active life until an infection set into his remaining kidney. Still damaged from the accident, his body hadn’t been able to fight and even though they had removed the infection, sooner or later he would have ended up on dialysis. He had needed a donor.

  The members of his family, who had been a match, had been too old to donate. None of his friends or business associates had even been tested. But Amana had. It still amazed him that she had bravely gone under the knife for him. Without a doubt, she had probably saved his life.

  With those memories in his head, he returned his gaze to hers. “That’s why I’d prefer to celebrate this success with you.” He pushed off the desk and rounded it. “I’ve never really had the chance to thank you
for the kidney and all your support; rehab, personal errands and everything else in the six months I’ve been back to work.”

  Suddenly shy, she glanced down for a moment as she always did when he attempted to show his gratitude. “I don’t need thanks. I was happy to help.” Smiling she looked up at him. “I’m not an organ donor for nothing.”

  He chuckled and resumed his seat behind his desk. This was a constant debate between them. “Yes, but most people expect that will happen after they die. You, however, stepped up to the plate while you still needed what was inside of you to live.”

  “Not true. A person can survive and have a very productive life on one healthy kidney.” She waved her hand between them, both of them living proof of her words.

  “Touché,” he agreed. She always won with the final point, but he wasn’t going to let her slip out of him doing something to thank her. “You win, again. But, I still want to take you out to dinner. This last six months has been hard work getting this company back on firm ground and showing a profit after my board had set it on a sinking course, a lot of long hours, weekends and early mornings, Amana. How many times have you found yourself sitting beside me in business class heading off to one meeting after another as I negotiated deal after deal?”

  She crossed her long, toned legs and Neal couldn’t help but watch the movement. He was a sucker for women’s legs in sexy sheer stockings. Amana’s legs were some of the sexiest. At six three, not many women met him eye to eye, but Amana did. In her three inch heels she wore to work, she frequently strutted down the hall beside him taking notes, mirroring him in height. She may have been tall, but her build never let anyone see her as anything but a woman. He wasn’t one of those bosses that chased their secretaries around the desk or who pinched their asses every time they bent over. But his personal assistant was a beautiful woman and more than a few times he’d caught himself admiring her body.

  Nothing had ever come close to happening between them. She had been newly married when she started working with him five years ago. Once her husband had died, Neal had already been in a long term relationship and she needed time to heal. Besides, he had excellent radar that spotted women who found him attractive or wanted to sleep with him. Amana never put out any of those vibes, so it had been easy to respect the boundaries of their working relationship.

  “It’s my job, Mr. Stephens.”

  “Yeah, but you did it without complaint.”

  “What else was there for me to do…?”

  Her voice faded away and he noticed the same shadow that occasionally clouded her eyes when he’d ask her if she had any plans before he requested her to stay late or give up a weekend to be across the country with him. Two years ago, Amana’s husband had died of a rapid spreading colon cancer. Neal assumed that it was her grief of losing Kevin that still saddened her. Hell, it had been two years and she’d never even dated anyone else as far as he knew.

  “Regardless.” He waved her words away. “I am taking you to Luce, so make the reservations.”

  When her lips parted, he stopped her and said, “Not taking no for an answer.”

  She licked her lips. “What I was going to say was, I still think that the employees,” she stressed the word. “Still deserve a celebration, even if the executives don’t.”

  “I agree. However, I’d like to do something different, because just like you they gave up a lot of personal and family time.”

  She tapped her pen against her chin for a moment, a sign she was rolling ideas around in her head. “What about if you pay for a day at the theme park for them and their families? Then afterwards reserve a restaurant by it where they can gather for dinner.”

  He considered it for a moment. There was no way he could conceive of the stuffy board members going to an amusement park, which meant that the thought of them wanting to be at a restaurant filled with people’s children was definitely something they’d steer clear of. “It’s perfect. Get that all set up. While you’re taking care of our dinner plans,” he added.

  Rising, she said, “I’m on it, boss.”

  As she sashayed towards the door, he watched how the plum colored Armani jacket and dress suit hugged her body, showing off her narrow waist, round high ass and thick thighs. Designer apparel had never been Amana’s thing, but the clothing stipend he gave her each month forced her to shop at more elite stores. There was nothing wrong with the off the rack suits she’d always worn, but since she never allowed him to show his gratitude for all she had done for him, he pressed his advantage in this area. Telling her that since she now traveled so often with him, she needed to dress close to his level of style, tailored suits and custom-made accessories were his choice. Even though she had caved and began to purchase more sophisticated clothing, she would get them only at discount places such as Off Saks and Nordstrom Rack.

  But, it didn’t matter where she got them, because the chic suits always complimented her form. They proclaimed every curve of the striking black woman who worked out and took care of her body, which appeared firm and toned. Over the last two years, she’d spent just as much time in the fitness center as he did. Most mornings at five a.m., he’d find her stepping up on the treadmill beside him, if she hadn’t beaten him there.

  When he began to feel the familiar rise of his cock in his pants, he couldn’t help but be thankful when she closed the door behind her, removing the view.

  Over the last three months, his reaction to Amana had become more intense. Mentally he attempted to chalk it up to not having a woman in his life for over a year. Before his accident, he’d maintained a vigorous sex life, so of course the abstinence of any physical activity with a woman was beginning to weigh on him. Since Amana was the only one around him constantly, it made since that he’d be attracted to her.

  His gut called him a liar. Since the doctor had cleared him over eight months ago to have sex, he could have picked up the phone and had a number of women in his bed. But he hadn’t. He’d made one excuse after another for his celibacy, mainly the fact that he’d been rebuilding his company and didn’t have time to dedicate to a new relationship. That’s the one that stuck, but it wasn’t even close to the truth. However, the truth was outside of his reach and best to stay that way.

  ~YH~

  “I will not accept it. Take it back.” Amana stood in the doorway of her condo with her arms folded over her breast, arguing with the deliveryman.

  “Ma’am, I can’t return it; it’s a one-way drop off.” The young delivery guy, a college student most likely, held the white garment bag out to her, trying to get her to take it.

  Refusing to budge, Amana asked, “What if I wasn’t home? Then you’d have to take it back.”

  “No, ma’am, I was paid extra to wait if you weren’t here.”

  “What? That’s ridiculous,” she raged. She knew who was responsible for demanding such actions, just like she knew what was in the bag. Tonight was her dinner that she refused to call a date, with her boss, Mr. Stephens. Knowing him the way she did, and with all his other deliveries today, she figured he’d gone to the length of buying her an evening gown for tonight. First, he’d made her take the day off. At one, a masseuse had shown up and then the hairstylist and manicurist had just left an hour ago. This was too much. Besides, she’d already picked out a dress from her closet, having accompanied him to many functions in the last year. She had a nice collection. She didn’t need another one.

  She continued her tirade, “Look, Brett.” She read his name tag on his dark blue uniform shirt. “This might be your job, but I’m sure you have other things you want to do on a Friday night than sit on my doorstep until I got home.”

  “Yes, I do.” He beamed a smile at her, one that most likely had all the college freshmen fainting, as his eyes begged her to put him out of his misery and take the bag. “I am supposed to pick up my girl friend in an hour for her birthday.”

  Amana realized she’d talked herself into a trap. Rats! If she continued to hassle him about the
delivery, he’d be forced to remain here and miss out on his own plans. “Fine, give it to me.”

  His shoulders sagged with relief as he passed the garment bag to her.

  “I’ll get your tip.”

  “None needed, I was already paid.” He walked backwards quickly towards the elevator as if he were afraid she’d toss it back into his hands like a hot potato.

  “Figures.” She closed the door and headed back to her bedroom, where she was when the doorbell sounded. In her room, she gazed at her bed and saw the basic black crepe sheath with the wide scoop neck that barely showed the tops of her shoulder and covered her to the knee. Simple and elegant had been what she was going for tonight.

  Removing the dress her boss had picked out, she gasped, trapping her breath in her lungs. This dress was purple, more like a majestic purple it was so vibrant in color. It had a strapless satin bodice with shoulder straps that was made to crisscross in the back, with two rhinestone clasps that would fasten the straps below her shoulder blades and the center of her back. Her back would be practically bare to the small of her back. The skirt of the dress was more conservative, falling in two layers of chiffon that almost swiped the floor when she pulled the dress against her.

  The thought of how she would look in the dress and what her boss would think of her in the dress made her hands tremble. Laying it down beside her other one, she took a few shallow breaths trying to relax. This was too much, her mind screamed.

  Butterflies were going wild inside of her. Placing a hand on her stomach she attempted to calm them and herself. This was not a date. This is just a thank you. She reminded herself. Everything he’d done for her today was just like everything else he’d given her or attempted to give her through the year, a show of gratitude. Why her body was acting like it was more, she refused to examine.