by Nana Malone
He picked up one of the files and sank into his leather chair at the opposite end of the room. “So how do you think we’re going to meld our two skill sets?”
She raised an eyebrow as he sat but didn’t comment on his choice of location. “I’m not sure yet. I thought of doing something with Fire and Ice, but that’s just so played. Besides, I don’t think either one of them enjoys the cold. They don’t strike me as the climbing Everest together kind of couple.”
Beckett considered for a moment, then smirked at the idea of Lila roughing it at Basecamp One. She’d never make it. “You’re right about that.”
“I’d thought about a desert theme, but we have the same problem, desert usually equals harsh and inhospitable. While inhospitable is good for an adventure trek from Capetown to Marrakesh, it’s not ideal for romance.”
He grinned. “What, you don’t find sweltering heat, occasional civil war-torn areas, and uncertain terrain particularly romantic?”
She wrinkled her nose. “I’ve done a few adventure treks. Not my cup of tea. Though I’d love to do another Back to Roots Fantasy. I loved the one we did in Gabon, Ghana, and Nigeria.”
They batted around several more unsuccessful ideas over a couple of beers and took turns shouting at the television when their respective teams got fouls. Beckett shook his head. “Our only option is to loosely tie together the fantasies with some down time in between. There’s no way to find a common theme. He’s your typical want-to-be adventurer, who now has money and wants to see how the other half lives. She’d be happy shopping on the Champs Eylysee.”
Ricca’s eyes went wide. “That’s it! Well, not exactly it. Lila’s a little deeper than that. But you just gave me an idea.” Ricca ran up to the map with Post-its and scribbled frantically.
“Want to fill me in?”
She whipped around, causing her shirt to lift and show more belly, and he winced. He’d been sitting so still, trying to get his body to behave, that he’d nearly frozen that way. He did not need to think about her belly and the cinnamon expanse of skin. Last. Thing. He. Needed.
“Our theme will be driving through the sands of time. To signify their union and their anniversary. As well as the landscape for their adventure.”
He frowned. “I thought you agreed the desert was inhospitable.”
She smirked, and it was all he could do not to salivate as he stared at her lips. “It is. Unless you can find an oasis. I’m thinking we start with some kind of road trek. You know, like the guys on Top Gear always do. Maybe some insane race. Roberto’s a car nut. For the romance angles, there are some amazing desert spas all over the world. I’m thinking we can do a globetrotting round of adventures, each with a little down time over the course of several weeks. All leading up to their actual anniversary, where we do a modified harem adventure. She’s big into historical romance. The stuff of sheiks and bodice rippers.”
He blinked at her. Shit, she was good. There was a reason clients kept coming back to work with her. He cleared his throat as he tried to contribute something useful. Finally, his brain clicked into gear. “I like it. We could do a Paris to Dakar Rally race to start.”
Ricca’s eyes went wide. “Yes! That’s perfect, and there’s this amazing spa in Namibia. It’s where Angelina Jolie goes to relax. So they can spend a few days there for down time.”
Her excitement was infectious. “We can also do camel rides and the full tent sheik theme. So from the sounds of it, sounds like we’re traveling counter clockwise so far. Where do you want to end?”
“I’m thinking we can end in Marrakesh. There’s this palace there a prince built for the love of his life. We’ve used it before.” She clapped her hands. We can also use the deserts of Arizona for the best stargazing. Since she’s all about the alignment of stars and stuff. She thinks the two of them meeting was fate.”
“Shit. Great idea. Then after here, we can go to Dubai for the full party scape, then to Marrakesh to close.”
She giggled. “Around the world in eighty days, using the sands of time to bind and unify their love. Well less than eighty days, but you get the idea.”
“Holy shit. Did you just come up with that?”
She nodded. “Yep. Who do you think writes a lot of the romance fantasy slogans?”
He blinked at her. The next words were out of his mouth before he could recall them. “You shouldn’t let Angel get to you. Serena either. Angel’s spoiled and knows she’s deficient, so she deliberately tried to make you feel bad. Serena only cares about what’s going to make her look good.”
Ricca dropped into the couch and wrapped her arms around herself. “I’ve been dealing with women like her all my life. It’s no big deal.”
Irritation skimmed his skin. “It is a big deal. I know Zach overlooks your work because he’s not paying attention. I know it’s not fair. I also know it’s not fair to you that you have to compete with me for this gig. We both know you’ve got more experience. Doesn’t change the fact that I want this job pretty bad. But I promise you I’ll play fair. Give credit where it’s due. I’m not going play dirty.”
She met his gaze, then darted hers to her lap. “I…uh. I appreciate that. I really want this job too. I’ve worked hard for it.”
He pondered for a minute before he said anything. “How about we both do the best job we can and see what happens? No funny business.”
For the first time all night, she gave him a genuine Ricca smile. “You have a deal.”
Chapter Nine
Now or never. Ricca sucked in a deep breath, or rather as deep a breath as the corseted blouse would allow. Looking down at herself, she almost chickened out. The red, Betsy Johnson, corseted wrap blouse strained against her breasts, and her cups damn near runneth over. Her slim pencil skirt with the thigh-high slit forced her to walk with a swing in her hips.
She felt—sexy. Before evil-Angel-must-die day, sexy was the last thing she’d have been looking for. Now, it kind of felt—amazing. Micha had picked out a slew of clothes that were body conscious and provocative without being so over the top and revealing. It sure did help when one of your best friends ran a fashion and entertainment magazine.
Pausing for a moment before she opened the door to the conference room, Ricca tipped up her chin, plastered a bright smile on her face, and shook out her hair. “Game on.”
Three things happened simultaneously as she opened the door. Zach, who was in the middle of a conversation with Serena did a literal double take and gawked, going so far as to have his jaw unhinge. Serena’s eyes bugged open, then she gave Ricca a secret smile and an approving nod. And Angel caught one look at Ricca and coughed her mocha latte all over her Gucci, winter-white, leather pants.
Ricca smirked to herself. Really, who was wearing leather these days? And any self-respecting woman with a real body wouldn’t have been caught dead in white pants. Leather or otherwise.
Ricca retained her smile and forced her usual cheery, ”Good morning, everyone,” out of her lips. Only a couple of people returned the greeting. The rest just stared.
She picked one of the last few empty seats and made it a point to look everyone in the eye. Prison rules—just like Micha said. Meet everyone in the eye and let them know you are unafraid.
Emily Reed actually gave Ricca a genuine smile, eye crinkle and all. “You look great,” she whispered. “Is that the new Betsy Johnson blouse?”
Ricca smiled and nodded. “A friend went to the show in New York and snagged me one.”
“Really cute.” Emily turned back to her notepad, all the while dodging the death glares from Angel.
Had Ricca misjudged the lot of them based on Angel and her colossal bitchiness? Go figure.
Late as usual, Beckett sauntered in at two minutes after nine, gave his boys his usual what up nod, and scanned the room for an empty seat. When his gaze met Ricca’s, he gave her his usual sunny smile, but it immediately darkened the moment his eyes roamed lower, landing at full-blown scowl.
Thanks to his tardiness, there were only two available seats. One next to her, and the other next to Angel. He plunked himself down beside Ricca and grunted, “Hey.” But he didn’t look at her.
Fine by her.
As the meeting commenced, Ricca paid her usual studious attention, but every now and again, the hair on her neck stood at attention, and she’d look up to find one of the adventure boys openly gawking at her.
More than once it was Zach, a couple of times it was Carter. Even Tim from Accounting slid her a glance once or twice. Even the women stared at her with curiosity, or in Angel’s case, blatant contemp. Not one of them was paying attention to the meeting. Is this what Serena had been talking about when she mentioned commanding a room?
At one point, Beckett nudged Ricca’s notepad and sent her pen rolling to the floor. Before she could even bend down to pick it up, both Carter and Tim were on their feet, offering her a pen and simultaneously bending to pick up hers.
Holy cow. Was this what Serena had been talking about? ‘Cause she could get used to this. The job was hers for the taking.
****
Beckett’s body ached from exertion, and his mind was groggy from too little sleep. But last night had been worth it with Ricca. In those lost hours when they’d been working together, he’d felt like he did in the old days. They’d had fun and come up with a kick ass plan for the Master Fantasy. As long as he managed to stop from thinking about how she tasted, he’d be fine.
Except, his ears perked up at the click-clack of heels in the office next door. She was back from lunch. As the sound drew nearer to the door, he held his breath. He’d already seen her side-show act in the morning meeting, and he was in no mood to get another round of sexy Ricca. He didn’t have time to go and grab a cold shower.
But his body was already starting to remind him of its fifteen-year-old self, when he could only think about Sarah Lawrence and her short cheerleading skirts. This time, his mind could only think about Ricca Monroe and her slit-to-here skirt and fuck-me shoes that gave him all kinds of ideas about Ricca on his desk.
Every time she passed his office, she flashed her sunny smile, and he groaned. Those lips of hers made Monica Bellucci's look as thin as paper, and she'd topped them with something pink and tasty looking. Hell. What the fuck was wrong with him? He ran his hands through his hair, trying to get his mind on the game and on the project.
Ricca had already turned his brain to mush. This morning, it looked like she’d done the same with every other Y-chromosome in the building. The hair, the clothes, the makeup—it was all as if she’d morphed into the cinnamon version of Jessica Rabbit. With every shy smile and sashay across a room, the guys in the office had been dropping like flies. He’d already had to verbally flog two of the adventure guys for skulking around his office door, trying to get a look at her.
A brief knock had him snapping his head up, hoping for Ricca. Instead, Carter, one of his adventure fantasy planners stood waiting—nowhere near as good.
“Hey, man, you wanted to see me?”
Beckett waved him in. “Yeah, Carter, have a seat.“ As soon as Carter parked it, Beckett started running through their plan. “Okay, so Ricca and I came up with a template for the fantasy. But this whole thing hinges on the Paris to Dakar race.”
Carter blew out a low whistle. “My dad did that once. Told me some guy almost lost his life when his car flipped. It’s a wicked race though.”
“Tell me about it. Jaya’s husband had planned to do it before they got together. But he’s rethinking it a little.” Beckett had never really warmed to Alec. He and Jaya had been so close before Mr. Most Eligible Bachelor had rolled into the picture. It wasn’t like he hated the guy, but they weren’t buddies.
“So you want me and the team working on logistics?”
Beckett shook his head. “Not yet. I want you getting us into that race. Ricca pointed out that registration was already closed. And the entries are already full. I need you to pull some strings and get a couple of cars in there.” Carter’s mother had been a diplomat for the UK since he was a kid. Their combined connections had helped the adventure team on more than one occasion.
Carter frowned. “They’ll never let Roberto drive, you know that, right? He has no racing experience. Best we can get is for him to be a navigator.”
“Already ahead of you there. I’ll be his driver.”
“Hoo—oly shit. Are you serious?”
“Not my first rodeo, so to speak. And certainly not my first rally car race. We also need to get another two cars in there. One for logistics, and one for filming.”
Carter shook his head, but grinned. “You don’t ask for much, do you?”
“Not really. Ricca’s insistent that the fantasy won’t be the same without this race, and I’m inclined to agree with her. We need to get in.”
“I’m on it. We’ll see what we can pull off. As you know, they haven’t done the Paris-Dakar leg in those countries for years.”
“Yeah, it’s in Brazil this year. Doesn’t really go with our theme.” He mulled it over for a minute. “Can you find me a good alternative in case it won’t work?”
“Will do.” Carter glanced around, presumably to make sure no one was walking past the open door. “Speaking of Ricca—what the hell happened to her? Holy hell, man, I thought my tongue was going to fall out of my mouth in this morning’s meeting.”
Beckett narrowed his eyes. He didn’t like the new direction of their conversation. He opted for nonchalance. “I hadn’t noticed.”
“What are you? Dead? Shit, man. I thought I’d need to go home for a change of clothes."
Beckett frowned. Not like he was jealous or anything. He and Ricca were just friends. He cleared his throat. “Don’t be a pig, Carter."
Carter made a mock innocent face. "Who, me? I'm not being a pig. I'm just noticing her, er, beauty, for the first time."
Blood simmered under Beckett’s skin. “Watch your mouth.”
Carter held up his hands. “Right. Sorry. I know she’s like your kid sister or something.”Or something. “What’s the big deal? You’ve seen Ricca a million times.”
“But not looking like she did today. God, if I’d known she had that kind of body under that, I’d have asked her out a year ago.”
Beckett tried to put the words coming out of Carter’s mouth with Ricca, and a misty red haze crossed over his field of vision. When he spoke, his voice was hoarse. “Dude. Back off of Ricca.”
Carter closed his eyes and shook his head. "I don’t know who gave her the makeover, but I could kiss them and give them my salary for a year. She looks hot."
Beckett clenched his jaw. Ricca did look beautiful. The way her new clothes fit her body and showed off her curves was a revelation. But he felt like a lecher. And so should Carter. "You’re only interested now because she's showing skin. You never noticed her before."
"Of course I noticed her. She's sweet. And always brought my favorite cake for my birthday. Is it my fault that now I'm noticing her body too? She should never have been hiding under those conservative outfits."
“Are you done yet?” Beckett asked through clenched teeth.
Carter raised an eyebrow as he chuckled. “Seriously man? You’re kidding me right? I never pegged you as having a thing for her. She’s not exactly your type.”
“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”
“You tend to prefer twiggy models. Me?” He angled his head. “I like a woman with more meat on her bones. And Ricca—wow. Who knew she was hiding all that under those layers? You think she’ll go out with me?”
“She’s not a slab of meat.”
"She's a person, Carter," Carter mimicked Beckett in a sing song voice. "Holier than thou, my ass. You want a piece too, I can tell. The way you've been all moody around her and crowding her at the staff meetings."
Beckett's hands clasped together in a grip so tight his knuckles cracked with the effort to stay together. Carter was a pig. So are you. But he was les
s of a pig than Carter was. At least he wasn't trying to get in Ricca’s pants. His dick jerked in response. Okay, well at least his brain wasn’t trying to get in her pants. His body had other ideas. Half of him would be noble. Could be noble.
Beckett deliberately placed his pen on his notepad. “Your first order of business is to get us into that race. Your next order of business is to stay the fuck away from her. You hear me?” He leaned back in his chair and pinned Carter with a look icy enough to freeze.
Carter shifted under the scrutiny and eventually stood. “I’ll do my job. I’ll pull the strings needed and get us into the race. But let’s be clear—you don’t have a say over my personal life. If you want to go out with her, you can ask her yourself.”
Carter had a good point there. Maybe it was bullshit to think he and Ricca could be friends.
Chapter Ten
“I like the new look.”
Ricca whirled around from her dying hydrangea plant. She wobbled in her borrowed, moxy-giving, Calvin Klein shoes and almost took a spill but righted herself quickly. Fake it till you make it. Fake it till you make it. Fake it till you make it. “Carter Sykes. To what do I owe this surprise?”
“What? I can’t come talk to a beautiful woman?”
Ricca knew the charm offensive. She’d seen guys like Beckett and Carter use it to lure women out of their panties all their lives. With his angled jaw and sunny smile, Carter was handsome but still approachable. The warmth in his honey-brown eyes always came across. Or rather, he was a really good manipulator.
“You only ever come in here to butter me up with your birthday cake request. And your birthday isn’t till March, so what do you want?”
His lips tipped up in a sheepish grin. “Ouch. You make me sound like—what did you call Angel and her frienemies crew the other day? One of the plastics.”
“If the moniker fits…” She let her voice trail off.