MY MAN’S BEST FRIEND
(Book 1)
A NOVEL BY
K. ELLE COLLIER
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My Man’s Best Friend
Published by K.Elle Collier
© 2011 by K. Elle Collier
All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no parts of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of the copyright owner of this book. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
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Cover Design by Tamara Ramsay
More books by K. Elle Collier
Kai's Aftermath (Book 2)
My Man’s Best Friend Series
Alana Bites Back (Book 3)
My Man’s Best Friend Series
Pretty Lives Ugly Truths (Book 1)
The Monroe Family Series
Pretty Lives Ugly Truths (Book 2)
The Monroe Family Series
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Content
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
CHAPTER 1
YOU WIN SOME AND WELL, YOU WIN SOME
I knew the moment I laid eyes on Todd Daniels he was going to be my man. My ace, my one and only, hell – maybe even my soul mate. That's saying a lot coming from me, Kai Edwards, a professional love 'em and leave 'em, who never looked back or cared how hard they cried or even how many times they called me a bitch. Didn't matter one bit.
In fact, it didn't matter at all. You see, my last committed relationship was a whopping three months, the one before that barely two, and the rest – well, let's just say I can count the unfulfilled days using both hands and one perfectly pedicured foot. Todd was different, he was more than just a man, he was a future, fully equipped with an amazing smile and milk chocolate skin that made you go mmm-hmm. Standing six feet and a few inches, give or take the small heel on his tastefully black Italian leather loafers. He commanded attention and exuded a certain confidence, which I found helplessly intoxicating.
I was standing in line at Curt’s Coffee House on my regular afternoon break from the office. The coffee house was full of patrons desperately seeking their mid-afternoon java jolt, and I was no different. My caffeine addiction was one of desperation; I found myself almost hallucinating without it. I realized a while ago that I had a dependency, but like I told my mom, I'd rather be addicted to a double latte with soy than crack, porn, or even men who cheat on their girlfriends like it was a normal way of life.
I glanced back over to Todd aka “tall, dark and delicious” and wondered if he was the cheating type, wondered if he left you just as crazy as Glenn Close in Fatal Attraction. Hmm, I think I will take my chances with him.
I scooped up my absurdly overpriced café latte and slowly strolled past him over to a small table for two by the window. He noticed me. Why shouldn’t he? I am five-foot six, 135 pounds with curves in all the right places. I sat down facing him, making sure he could admire my flawless skin and full lips. I crossed my legs, making sure he could appreciate my smooth yet toned thighs, and my killer calves. Thank you high school track team! I still had his attention as he glanced back not once but twice. I picked up my latte with my left hand, making sure a bare ring finger was in plain view. Two carats would suffice.
Todd stood about ten feet away from me as he waited for his turn in line. Shifting from side to side with his right hand in the pocket of his well-broken-in, faded designer jeans, I could tell that he had this certain “thing” about him, this unspoken presence and energy that held my attention. I glanced around the coffee shop and quickly noticed this magnetic presence was holding the attention of two other female admirers, not to mention, a male one, as well. No surprise; this brother had a gift of talking without even speaking. In fact, he was definitely doing a Jedi mind trick on me and every other woman within a 20-foot radius.
I quickly realized that I needed to up my chances of being the “chosen one,” so I slowly crossed and uncrossed my legs as I shifted my body in his direction. I had his attention. I shot him my million-dollar smile. He quickly acknowledged my “come get it while it's hot” gesture. Too bad the woman standing next to him acknowledged it, too. She purposely placed her hand on his back and leaned in to say something to him in an all too familiar way, as she glanced back at me, not so nicely.
Ugh! After seeing the Grinch steal my damn Christmas, I took one last swig of my Java, snatched up my purse, and quickly headed to the nearest exit. Miss “devil in her blue jeans” watched every step as I made my way out of the café, ensuring that I didn't do a detour into her man's solar system of wonderful.
I stepped outside of the comfort of air conditioning into a thick, affronting wave of midsummer afternoon air. It was hot and it was humid. The humidity had a way of setting up residence between my skin and my clothing, pulling them together like magnet to metal. I hesitated for a moment, thinking maybe I should go back in, show Miss Thing who had the power – but no, I was already over it. My self-preservation mechanism had kicked in, anticipating defeat. Instead, I headed up Randolph Street towards Michigan Avenue. The afternoon rush hour traf
fic was just starting to thicken. A confluence of sound from the passing of buses, cars, and the nearby L train created a sweet melody of sorts. I took a deep breath and relished in why I love Chicago; the hustle and bustle of the city’s downtown is infectious. The skyline’s varied and unique architecture is as diverse as the sea of people ever passing by. Chicago is a big city, yet the occasional smile from a random stranger can make you feel like you are in a small and familiar town. Mostly, I love Chicago because it is home.
I didn’t totally appreciate this great city until I moved to Atlanta right after college, so when my best friend, Simone, called to let me know that her advertising agency was looking for a new account rep, I emailed, faxed and damn near FedEx’d my resume to her.
I knew once my resume was in the hands of Simone McCormick, that job at McKenzie and Strong Advertising was as good as mine. Simone was not only my friend; she was my own personal publicist, which for her translated into “I will do just about anything to get my best friend in the same city as moi.” Needless to say, three weeks and two days later, I was on my way back home to Chicago to start yet another new life, complete with a great paying job and a plush apartment on the near North Side.
That’s one of the many things I love about Simone. She knows girlfriends are not a luxury, but a necessity. She always likes to say, “If you can’t count on your girlfriends for good and bad times, who can you count on?” Yep, Simone McCormick makes it her mission to show her girls that they are important in her life and I, for one, appreciate that.
After navigating the sea of business suits, I arrived at my regular newsstand. An abundance of magazines featuring covers of air brushed models, actors and rappers that looked up at me and beckoned me to read, buy and subscribe. I put down my purse and picked up my absolute favorite magazine in the whole wide world, Vanity Fair – well, at least my favorite for this month. Duane “The Rock” Johnson was on the cover. I quickly flipped it open to see a Revlon ad. Halle Berry never looked so good. As usual her skin is flawless, her teeth are perfect and her body is amazing. This is the sister who makes you think of spending your life savings on a face-lift, body wrap, and a ThighMaster. I love her and I hate her.
A movement caught my eye. I looked up to see, Him, Mr. Wonderful from the coffee shop. He was standing less than two feet away from me and looking directly at me.
He stared. I spoke, still looking at the Revlon ad but giving all my attention to him.
“If I'm not mistaken, I think someone is stalking me,” I said with a smile.
“Is that right?” Todd said.
“Very much so,” I added.
“Well, in my line of work, that wouldn't be a good thing,” he responded.
I slowly closed my Vanity Fair, turned my body toward his while giving him a quick once-over – damn he was fine!
“So what type of work would that be?” I asked.
“I'm a lawyer. Divorce lawyer,” he said with a half-smile, half-grin.
“Then misdemeanor stalking was probably taught in first year law,” I shot back.
“Exactly,” Todd said as his smile grew, showing all of his perfectly aligned, pearly white teeth. He extended his hand towards me. “I'm Todd. Todd Daniels.”
His hands were big and strong, his voice smooth and hypnotic. I was in awe of this brother, and I didn't know why.
I slid my small hand into his warmth, feeling his roughness in our connection.
“I'm Kai Edwards.”
“Pleasure to meet you – Kai. That's a different name. How do you spell it? K-y-e?”
“No, K-a-i.”
“Ah, Kai with an ‘I,’ I like that. Like it a lot.”
“Thanks.”
“So Kai with an ‘I’ – do you always flirt with strangers in coffee shops?”
“That depends.”
“On?” he asked.
“If you're open to strange women flirting with you while you’re with your girlfriend,” I answered.
Todd chuckled as he looked from side to side. Was he making sure She-Devil was nowhere near?
“That's quite presumptuous of you, just assuming someone’s my girl.”
“Right. So, is she?” I couldn't believe how forward I was being, but if it was going to win me the prize, I had to act quickly.
Todd shifted from left to right, and subtly scanned me up and down as if he were inspecting a used car to buy, looking for flaws that weren’t immediately visible.
“She's a girl who happens to be a friend. So yes, you could say she is a girlfriend,” he said as he emphasized “friend” with the lifting of his left eyebrow.
I knew Todd was playing a game of semantics with me and I didn't care. It just made him even more attractive.
“Well, I think Miss Devil in the blue jeans would definitely say she is ‘the’ girlfriend, the kind entitled to benefits.”
“Nope, definitely not benefits.”
“You sure?” I questioned.
“Positive. She got the memo,” he said.
I laughed; Todd smiled.
“Ah, the memo, but the question is, did she read the memo? Because you see, if she didn't read the memo, that's how miscommunication starts,” I continued, “which leads to assumptions, which quickly turn to attachment, taking us back approximately fifteen minutes to the coffee shop when your girl – your ‘friend’ – shot me a look of death for even thinking about looking in your direction.”
“Ah, ‘miscommunication’ – a very important word in the dynamic of relationships,” Todd said.
“Crazy, but true,” I added.
“Indeed,” he said.
“It’s something you should know, being a divorce attorney and all,” I said with a smile.
“You have a point. So in the future, I guess I’d better stick to voicemail.”
“Good idea,” I said.
We both smiled a bit at our witty, flirtatious banter. We definitely had a connection. For me, well, that prize was as good as mine.
“So, Kai with an ‘I’ – is there any way I could get in touch with you to finish our conversation?”
“That depends.”
“On?”
“How quickly you send that voicemail.”
A bigger smile crawled across Todd's face. “Consider it done,” he said with confidence.
We quickly exchanged numbers and a few more lines of flirty banter, gave each other a friendly hug, and said our goodbyes. I walked north. Todd walked south, disappearing just as quickly as he had appeared.
I looked at my watch. My five-minute coffee break had turned into a 45-minute meet-and-greet on Wabash. I took out my phone, hit “Contacts” and the letter “T” and Todd's number came up. I stared at it, wondering if he would really call – but what is more important, I wondered if I would still be interested once he did. I took it all in as I headed back to my office a mere block away.
As the elevators opened to the fifteenth floor offices of McKenzie & Strong, I quickly remembered why I’d left for my five-minute reprieve. Stress hung in the air as I headed towards my office. A big new campaign was starting to take shape and I wanted everything to go perfectly. After settling in, my assistant, Stephanie, buzzed to remind me of a 2:30pm meeting, although that wasn't necessary since Simone was walking through my door before I even had a chance to hang up the phone.
“You're back. Just how long does it take to get a cup of coffee?” Simone plopped down on my plush terra-cotta couch – with green, yellow, and red throw pillows, it was my office focal point and my source of pride. If it could speak, I would name it.
“I was only gone for 15 minutes.” Although it was closer to 40, why state the obvious? I knew Simone was timing me; she always did, an annoying practice she started in high school.
“More like 43 minutes.” Simone raised an eyebrow as she laid the new campaign art boards on my cocktail table.
Simone and I met freshman year in high school, when her family moved to Chicago from Louisiana. I guess you co
uld call Simone a Creole girl. Her dark brown skin and green eyes were not an everyday sight in Chicago, but go down to the Bayou and there are women with those attributes on every corner. Simone and I hit it off instantly. It was like we were born to be best friends, and that’s what we became.
So, fast-forward 20 years, and now it’s like we were born to be best coworkers at McKenzie & Strong. As far as I am concerned, we are an amazing creative team. Simone and I had been working on landing the “Just B” account for two weeks. Simone has a creative flair like no other, not to mention a hustle that is relentless as well as admirable. “Just B” is the new blue Jean line from singer and songwriter Bianca – best described as funky clothes with a spiritual appeal – and I knew we were the women to breathe life into it. Bianca was a free-spirited, soulful singer and her clothing line had to embody just that. So Simone and I came up with a variety of different slogans to go with her name: “Just B love,” “Just B peaceful,” “Just B creative,” and “Just B energy,” just to name a few.
Landing this account would definitely get Simone noticed as well as make my stay a lot more comfortable. It was my first assignment since starting the job and I wanted to come out of the gates blazing.
“So what do you think of these babies?” Simone asked, still analyzing the boards. She was always trying to find ways to improve things.
“They're hot as hell! One look and the client will be all over it. I'm not crazy about the model, but the idea is off the hook,” I said.
My Man's Best Friend- Book 1 Page 1