by Nana Malone
Ricca’s jaw clicked. “He’s not my—”
“Whatever.” Serena held up her hand. “Okay, we’ll do it your way. Come and see me when you want to win.”
Chapter Seven
“So what did she say, exactly?” Micha scowled.
Ricca bit her lip as her brain worked through Serena’s words, a task made more difficult by Micha’s sharp scrutiny. “Um…” Her voice trailed off.
“Because,” Micha continued, “It means the difference between me beating her with my shoe and me just stabbing her in the eye with it.”
“Oh, Micha, stop being so melodramatic,” Jaya said. “It’s more efficient to shoot the bitch and dump her body. I can make us a project plan for this scenario, if you want?”
“Would both of you just stop? “Ricca squeaked. “Who knew you guys were so prone to violence.”
Micha poured them all another round of Margaritas. Though, given her still hungover state, Ricca only got a half glass. Monday Margaritas had been a tradition with them since college. “No one calls my friend fat and frumpy and lives to tell the tale. Matter of fact, you should have told us earlier, so we could have just come down there and kicked her ass.”
Ricca raised an eyebrow. “What are you, my mom now?” Though Ricca’s mother would never have jumped to her aid so quickly.
“If that’s what you need, then yes. You can’t let people like her walk all over you. You’ve got to stand up for yourself.”
Ricca shook her head. “You guys don’t get it. It’s not that easy. Besides, I want this job. Bad. I want this job so bad I’d be willing to give up sex forever to have it. I’m not telling off my boss.”
Micha gasped. “Hush your mouth. You don’t want the sex fairies hearing you and granting that wish.”
Jaya chuckled before taking a long sip and setting her glass on a coaster. “Okay, so what exactly happened today? Is Serena on your side or not?”
“Shoot, I don’t know. When I first talked to her last week, she said I wasn’t a risk taker. Now she claims it’s Zach who doesn’t want me. When I told her I just wanted to do a good job, she said that wasn’t good enough and she wanted me to stand out more.” Ricca expelled a breath. “Then she started in on how I dress, saying that I’m hiding under my clothes and they make me look ‘bulky and frumpy.’ She didn’t call me fat—exactly.”
Micha opened her mouth as if to protest, but Jaya held up a hand. “Let her finish.”
Ricca let out a giggle at the mutinous face Micha made. “Um, then we met the clients. A husband and wife. He’s some Italian financier, and she’s the chick from the elevator I told you about. Jai, she specifically requested me.”
“Well, you deserve it. And let’s be clear, it’s your genuine character that got you this job,” Jaya said.
Ricca swiped a lock of hair out of her face. “They want to do a joint package for their upcoming anniversary. And over the top doesn’t even begin to cut it. Both are giving input on the other’s part of the fantasy. It’s a lot of pressure to get it right.”
“Honey, if there’s one thing you’re good at, it’s making a fantasy come true. This will be a cake walk for you,” Micha said. “Why are you so nervous?”
“Because, it’s something I want like I’ve never wanted anything before.” Ricca stared down at her nails. Just expressing her desire made a knot form in her gut. She never went after anything like she went after this job.
“Then take it.” Micha set her jaw.
“God, the way Serena talked to me made me seem like an Ugly Duckling reject.”
Micah shook her head. “First of all, that chick is a goner. Second, you have the most random television show knowledge.”
Ricca grinned. “It’s my secret talent.”
Jaya patted her knee. “Ree, you’re not giving this evil cow any of your brain power, are you, honey? God knows you’re gorgeous.”
“It’s not that. I just don’t want to change who I am. I mean you guys don’t think she’s right, do you?”
“Of course not.” Jaya frowned.
Micha rolled her eyes. “Don’t be crazy.”
“Do you guys think I’m hiding?”
Micha and Jaya both leaned back against the couch. Jaya crossed her legs, looking down. Micha chewed on the inside of her mouth. Ricca winced at the jab of pain through her middle.
For once, Micha was speechless. “I…Uh.” She darted a glance to Jaya. “A little help here? I don’t do finesse so well.”
Jaya expelled a breath. “Well, honey, you’re beautiful, but it’s like you don’t want anyone to see it.”
Ricca’s head jerked backward as she blinked back the shock. “Just because I’m not flaunting my assets doesn’t mean I’m hiding.”
“No one’s saying you have to flaunt your assets, babes. All I’m saying is that you cover up a lot, like you’re uncomfortable. You buy these great clothes, but then you get one look at yourself and you freak, so you immediately cover up with a shawl or something.” Jaya shrugged. “If you’re not comfortable, I understand. We love you, no matter what. It’s really about what you feel comfortable doing. Who you want to be.”
Micha sat up. “You’re the one in control. You determine who you want to be. You want to be the sultry sex-pot we know you can be? Great. Jaya has a pair of shoes to go with that persona. You want to play it safe and cool? We back you on that. What do you want?”
Ricca bit her lip. “Just once, I want to wipe that equal parts smug and blank look Zach gives me all the time, off his face. It’s like he doesn’t actually see that I’m there. I want my work to be noticed. Hell, I want to be noticed. The number of people who act like I’m not even in a room is shocking. I mean, I know I’m small, but come on. Look, when we go out—I know no one is paying attention to me, and I’m okay with that. But when I can’t get anyone to pay me any attention when I’m doing everything right, that’s not fair. I want to win.”
Micha slid Jaya a glance. “How badly do you want to win? Because killing the skinny bitch is still an option.”
“I want that job. I want to make Zach swallow his tongue. I want Serena to see how bad I want this job and to take me seriously.”
Jaya grinned. “I have just the shoes for this adventure. As long as you’re sure you want to do this.”
“Oh, I’m sure.” Ricca’s body flushed as she thought of Beckett’s soft lips on hers. The way his hands had clapped onto her ass and held her in place as if he wanted to devour her.
Ricca snatched up one of the sand-colored couch pillows and cuddled it as she sprawled on the floor. She would never tell the girls, but a small part of her hoped that Beckett would notice her too.
Desperate to shift the attention off her, she asked, “Are you still holding out on Caleb, Micha? Why, for the love of God? Have you seen that man?”
Micha folded her arms across her chest. “You know I have a rule. I’m not doing the relationship—” An alarm chimed. Micha sprinted for the lights and flipped them off.
Jaya coughed and hastily got to her feet. “What the hell?
“Get down, you guys,” Micha whispered. “I don’t know if he can still see shadows in here.”
As Micha dragged her and Jaya to the window, Ricca bumped her toe on the coffee table. “Ow. Damn it. Micha, you want to tell me why we’re skulking around your own condo in the dark, and why the hell you’re whispering?”
“I second that request,” Jaya whispered.
Micha wrinkled her brow and darted them a guilty look. “Okay, so maybe I’m not immune to Caleb.” She peered over the windowsill, and Ricca and Jaya followed suit.
In the apartment directly across the courtyard, Caleb Atkins opened the door to his condo, flipped on the lights, and immediately started to disrobe. His tie went first, with two quick aggressive jerks. As he yanked his shirt from his slacks and started to unbutton, Ricca sat back down. “I can’t watch.”
“Neither can I,” Jaya said, but somehow she managed to stay put.
<
br /> “Ricca, you’re missing out, I tell you.”
At the sound of Jaya’s “Holy Mary Mother of God,” comment, Ricca popped her head back up to take in the view.
Caleb’s exceptional abs and chest filled her field of vision. “Wow. Holy abs,” she muttered.
“Now do you guys see? It’s totally worth the price of admission,” Micha said. “He does this pretty much every night of the week. Sometimes, he just changes clothes and roams around shirtless, sometimes he changes and leaves again. But every night, it’s my own private viewing party.” Micha sighed and sat against the wall. “Once he walked around naked for a bit. I won’t tell you what I did then.”
“Let’s not forget that time you caught him, um, attending to himself.”
“I will never forget that. It’s the sole reason I don’t sleep at night.”
Ricca didn’t understand. “Why don’t you just have dinner with the guy?”
“Because I’m shit at relationships, and they never work out for me. And since he’s apparently in the circle, thanks to Jaya’s man, it’s too messy. Besides. I want to sleep with him. I don’t want to find out his life goals and shit.”
“You’re incorrigible, Micha. What about love and romance?” Ricca asked. Though Micha had a point. In their small circle of friends it would get messy. One more reason Beckett was off limits.
“I don’t believe in love and romance for me. For you and Jaya, that works.” Abruptly, she changed the subject, like she always did when she was scared of appearing too vulnerable. “Okay, so are we good to commence operation sex-pot, Ree? And think, the added bonus is that Beckett will literally want to cut out his own tongue when he sees you. A little pay back for the years you spent thinking about him. You in?”
Ricca swallowed around a lump in her throat. She hated that her old feelings for Beckett had been so apparent to everyone but him. He might be off limits, but having him notice her would be nice for a change. “I’m in.”
Jaya smirked then crawled over to the canvas bag she’d left by Micha’s couch. She pulled out a shoe box and said, “I’m officially passing off the stilettos to you. I no longer need them. Wear them with pride and take no prisoners—unless they look like my fiancé or Caleb.”
Ricca eyed the gold-embossed Christian Louboutins that, in a fit of insanity, Jaya had bought for three thousand dollars. To bail out their friend, Micha and Ricca agreed to time-share the sinfully delicious shoes. It was Ricca’s turn to play Cinderella. She only hoped the shoes worked as well on jobs as they did on men. “You got it.”
Chapter Eight
Ricca ran through a Patti Labelle song in her head as she stood on Beckett’s doorstep with a pile of folders, shifting from foot to foot in her Gucci flats. Ooo ooo ooo ooo ooo, I got a new attitude. Micha had insisted she wear heels, but Jaya had said that the flats were more casual. They’d break out the Louboutins for work, but for now, Ricca needed to appear like she wasn’t trying too hard.
Though to Ricca, trying too hard was a relative term, because the skinny jeans she’d poured herself into, via way of crowbar and pig grease, might start cutting off her circulation at any time. Okay maybe not cutting off her circulation. They just fit like a glove—a very tight glove. Micha had found her a brand that was made for women with actual asses.
Ricca just wasn’t used to being so exposed. Her vintage, Lakers T-shirt did nothing to hide her ample chest and actually showed a hint of belly—which she sucked in. A little voice whispered in the back of her mind. Straighten your shoulders, kid, this won’t work if you’re not confident. What’s the worst that could happen?
Before she rang the bell, she cleared her throat and patted down her hair. There was so much of it that she never wore it down. Since she was so short, it completely overwhelmed her stature. At least that was her thought, but Jaya and Micha had a different idea. Micha with the gorgeous ringlets actually told her she was jealous of Ricca’s hair and wished hers was as thick.
For a hint of a moment, Ricca wanted to turn back. She didn't want to be here. Anywhere but here. Hell, who was she kidding, she wanted to be here, but she knew it wasn't good for her. Strong confident women didn't chase men who didn't want them. Who looked at her like a little sister.
Then she remembered Beckett’s smug face as he’d said let the best man win. He really thought he was a shoe-in for the job, just because he could smile and charm his way out of anything. Well, this was her job, and she wasn’t backing down from it. Squaring her shoulders, she rang the doorbell. “I have a job to win."
“Come on in, Ricca." Beckett's deep voice came from behind the door. Probably from the kitchen. "See if you can find somewhere to sit. Want a drink?"
She let herself in, barely managing to maneuver around the box of files. “Wine is good, if you still have that Moscato.” Her taste in wine left something to be desired, as she only actually liked the sweet stuff. “I brought the files of my past romance fantasies for the last year. I thought we could go through them, see if there’s anything that’s reusable.” As was her habit, she sauntered into his living room, which was a combo of contemporary-meets-bachelor pad, and dropped the box on the coffee table.”
“Good idea,” he called from the kitchen.
“I figure these guys have enough money to do pretty much anything they like, so we have to think out of the box here. You’ve only ever handled adventure clients. And my experience with adventure clients is minimal. Usually someone wants to base-jump off of some building. We need to figure out how to meld our experience into one master fantasy.”
“I guess I should have thought about that—going through our previous playbook. You always were a planner. Sma—” Beckett sauntered into the living room holding a beer for himself and a glass of wine for her. He froze in the arched doorway between the kitchen and the living room. Ricca held back a bark of laughter, only by the force of sheer will. Beckett actually looked like he was having a seizure, blinking, twitching, and shaking his head a couple of times.
She tipped her lips up into a smile. “This isn’t one of those things you can wing unfortunately.”
“W-w-what are you wearing?” His eyes were wide, and his expression mirrored a deer caught in headlights.
Ricca stared down at her at herself, then back up at him. “Clothes.”
“Someone’s a comedian. I mean why are your clothes so….” His voice trailed off.
Ricca stared at him, daring him to mutter one word about her appearance. She could play it tough, but she didn't need him ridiculing her appearance. “So what?”
“D-d-different? I don’t think I’ve seen you in anything other than sweats when we’re watching a game.”
“I went shopping with the girls. Mixing it up a little.” Not in the mood to slash open this particular wound, she added, “You ready to get to work?
Her whole life, she’d listened to her mother’s version of what a lady should be and look like and act like. The tiny criticisms about her hair and her body. None of that mattered now. She was in control. That was where her power was.
Ricca straightened and smirked at Beckett. Serena had been right—he didn’t stand a chance. She wouldn’t be running after him begging for scraps of attention, hoping someone would take notice of her and her work. She would demand it. This job was hers.
****
Beckett stared at Ricca as she laid out the file folders. He knew his brain had sent the command to his body to move, but his feet didn’t. He could only stare as the scent of her perfume tickled his nose. His body went rock hard. Damn it. He recognized the scent as something she always wore, but now it seemed stronger—like it was meant to entice and torture him.
Gritting his teeth, he lurched into action like Frankenstein. All he had to do was focus on the work at hand. Make a little small-talk about the game and try not to think about how the thin fabric of her top molded to her breasts. He had to somehow manage to keep his eyes on her face. How hard can that be? Not like that was a hardship to lo
ok at her face. Her skin glowed, and she wore the barest hint of makeup, but she wore some. She usually never wore make up. Blood pooled in his groin, and he bit on his lip to keep from moaning.
“Beckett, you coming? This could take all night at this rate. What’s wrong with you?”
The last thing he needed to think about was the two of them spending all night doing anything. Let alone what he really wanted to do with her. “Right. Nothing. I’m going to get a beer.” Never mind that he already had one in his hands.
Striding to the fridge, he yanked the door open, hoping the cold air would cool him off. “C’mon man. Get a grip. This is Ricca. She’s not that kind of girl,” he mumbled to himself.
He had to get over the preoccupation his brain had with her since that kiss. She outclassed him by miles and didn’t deserve the kind of fantasies he was having about her. He’d keep them to himself and figure it out. After all, Ricca was his friend. A friend he wanted to keep. Job or not, and despite what she thought about his scruples. He wanted to win this job fair and square with something he didn’t have much experience with. Integrity.
It took him another five minutes before he joined Ricca in the living room. She’d spread out piles of paper and taped up her world map she always used for planning meetings. She’d also turned the game on mute. When he walked in, she was hunched over some files and playing with her hair. He suddenly had a flashback to college. When they’d been much closer friends. Back when she thought he could do no wrong. In those days, he’d always thought they’d eventually date or something.
But things had changed three years ago. After Braedon. Almost like she’d lumped him in with his brother. They’d been friends, just not as close as they’d once been. With her love of sports, they’d immediately bonded by swapping stats and scores. Hell, they’d spent every waking minute together, and several sleeping ones too, as they’d passed out in his bed or hers, studying. Nothing had ever happened with them—until that stupid kiss.