TRYST
Tiana Johnson
Erotic Romance
Secret Cravings Publishing
www.secretcravingspublishing.com
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A Secret Cravings Publishing Book
Erotic Romance
Tryst
Copyright © 2013 Tiana Johnson
E-book ISBN: 978-1-61885-637-1
First E-book Publication: April 2013
Cover design by Dawné Dominique
Edited by E. L. Felder
Proofread by Rene Flowers
All cover art and logo copyright © 2013 by Secret Cravings Publishing
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED: This literary work may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, including electronic or photographic reproduction, in whole or in part, without express written permission.
All characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is strictly coincidental.
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www.secretcravingspublishing.com
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Rachel Hayes' father set out to prove the existence of the Miloni temple and the Jaguar people. Tumi is a descendant of the Miloni race and is sworn to protect their secret with his life. Will he be forced to uphold his vow at the cost of his heart and Rachel's life?
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TRYST
Tiana Johnson
Copyright © 2013
Chapter One
This night is going to be the death of me, Elisha Thurman thought as she checked out her ass in the full-length mirror. She was backstage at The Buckhead Club, a high-class, members-only boys club in a plain, squat, and square office building off Peachtree Avenue. Checking out her goodies in skimpy lingerie and rehearsing a lap dance was the last thing one would expect a CEO to be doing after getting tossed out on her ass and onto the hard pavement.
Anonymity was the reason she had chosen this place. The Buckhead Club was a hushed secret among the corporate set. Members had a skeleton key and passcode to enter. This was the place that made dreams come true for their clientele. The concierge booked discreet flights anywhere in the country, ordered sushi and pizza, and could obtain most things legal and illegal for members until 7 a.m. She wasn’t known in Atlanta but this was his base of operations. He had more to lose here in Atlanta than she did.
But he never lost.
Maybe that would change tonight.
Elisha was here, preparing herself to make good on a promise to her enemy. What she would rather do was sulk at home with chocolate-coated marshmallows and a sad movie marathon, plot a takeover, and temper her icy cordiality and bitter hostility in preparation for Monday's investor press conference, yes. Complying with her idiotic statement and dancing for this man, no, that wasn't included in the list.
Elisha pulled the silk wrap off her hair and ran her fingers through the caramel and cinnamon-colored curls that tumbled around her face to her shoulders. Dancing wasn't the problem, thanks to twelve years of tap, ballet, salsa, and modern dance training. It was the little bits of nothing decorating her body that bothered her.
She checked herself in the mirror one more time, and her deep-red painted lips split in a full smile. I look freaking amazing. She was still amazed at the transformation. During all her years in the beauty industry, she’d never looked like this. Her breasts, normally hidden and covered up by baggy clothes, were spilling out of the corset. Her firm ass filled the lacy shorts. She had to admit that she had an ass made for kissing and spanking, and her shapely strong legs were playing hide-and-seek with the fishnets she was wearing.
Tonight, her sworn enemy wouldn't look through her as he did every other day. To him she was the dowdy, unsavvy chemist who made her company's core product must-haves and who’d turned five million dollar in profits in seven years.
But, a deal was a deal, even if he was here only to rub cayenne pepper into her wounds. This was her last obligation to him.
It’s one night and one dance, Elisha thought, tossing back the electric green-colored shot that Velvet put in front of her. Nothing prepared her for the miserable taste of lawn clippings tha
t hit her tongue. This wasn't the tequila she wanted to slide down the back of her throat to numb the butterflies in her stomach.
"What is this?" she gagged, choking down the drink.
Velvet, the exotic dancer-cum-dressing room bartender, turned from the mirror where she was putting on her Bambi-esque fake eyelashes. "Wheatgrass. Good for detoxification and vitamin B12. It's a favorite of Mr. Hernandez."
She frowned and squinted at the glass. Javier Hernandez was a riddle. She expected some things from him, but a wheatgrass shot? Never. What the freak? Only Javier Hernandez, the closeted health-food junkie and ruthless corporate raider, would think to send her something like this. He was still trying to kill her, first by stealing her company from underneath her and now giving her hippie tonics before she gave him what he wanted.
Don't make checks you can't cash. The words of wisdom that her father had told her years ago were now painfully pertinent. Javier was getting what he wanted, all because she had been too free with her words and too expressive with her mouth.
Elisha wiped her mouth and swallowed to erase the lingering taste from her mouth. Nothing was simple between them. This dance wasn’t simple. Her big mouth and conflicting emotions—-wanting to kill him and wanting to fuck him—-had gotten her here. Lust and frustration had made her stupid and careless. Her outward nonchalance was a facade covering the deep burn she had. Damn that Wall Street Journal reporter for overhearing her bathroom conversation at Nobu 57. Her private thoughts and opinions had been splashed over the financial blogs. Statements that she'd rather climb a pole than to work for the Devil. Quotes that she'd rather spend the night with the Devil than have him buy out the majority stake in her company. That had been plastered all over the business journal blogs.
She had embarrassed herself and her company. Her investors leaned in his favor, thinking she was too young and brash to take the company to the next level. And he knew it. All is fair in a merger and acquisition. Javier had met her in one of the exclusive LaGuardia airport lounges with an offer she couldn't refuse, spend the night with him or he would sink her even deeper into debt and gossip.
Elisha was nervous again. Instead of butterflies fluttering in her stomach, pterodactyls rammed her insides. She hadn't been nervous like this since she’d spotted her first crush in the lunch room of her junior high school.
A nervous wreck. That is what you became after declaring and losing a war against a man with no conscience and no morals, Elisha thought, rolling her neck to get rid of her excess energy. A ridiculously gorgeous man, but still a man with few ethical boundaries when it came to business. Javier Hernandez was happiest and at his best when he was taking and stealing companies, wheeling and dealing with the best of them. If he wanted your company, you moved out of his way. Elisha had been warned. She just didn't heed the advice she had been given. She’d dangled a lure in front of him, and like a greyhound he tenaciously went after the lure full force until he caught it, bit into it, and pulled the stuffing out. Now it was time for him to gloat in the winner’s circle and collect his prizes, her mortification and the demolishment of everything she had worked for.
And all Elisha had to do was make good on her simple promise, two hours alone with him. She—the CEO of Bain-Abbott Pharmaceuticals, Harvard MBA graduate—was going on stage to perform for him as penance.
One dance and he would allow her to leave her company with grace and dignity.
One dance and she would be done with her company and this damn man forever.
If only it was that simple.
A distinct ring shocked Elisha out of her trance. Elisha peeked at the closed circuit television in the dressing room and watched Javier glide into the club. He had shed his traditional business garb for something more casual. Dressed in drawstring sweatpants and a purple fleece hoodie, he played the role of the simple brother out for a night of pleasure, relaxation, and fun. He could have been a garbage man or a local rap artist, anything but the CEO of a multi-billion dollar corporation. He made everything look fucking effortless. Everything, including stealing her own company out from underneath her. Even here, he still oozed power and swagger.
He needed to learn a lesson.
Velvet stabbed her in the side with a makeup brush. "Thurman, two minutes. Remember, you're in control. He isn’t.”
Elisha snickered at that comment. Javier Hernandez was always in control. That’s the only gear he operated in—full force, demanding control. “You have that backwards. He's the one who calls the shots.”
“Except for tonight. Own your power.” Velvet continued. "All men are pliable. We can get them to do what we want. What do you want from him?"
I want to win. Torture him in the process. String him along. Elisha stopped the flood of words. Good girls weren't supposed to want to dominate or control a lover.
Javier as her lover.
That wasn't a leap in her mind. She had fantasized about him above, under, and over her, making her come and forcing her to the limits of pleasure.
In the past, that—fucking him, making love with him, even kissing him—had not been an option. They were competitors and enemies.
As of Monday morning, she wouldn't be anything to him except a memory and a corporate conquest.
Now she could have him with no repercussions.
Elisha took another shot of wheatgrass and winced. The opening bars of the music started. He was here, waiting. She’d never guessed that her ballet lessons and her sister's stripper-themed bachelorette party would merge together like this. She tossed the glass aside and looked at her hands shaking but then everything suddenly changed. She heard the music, and the fear abated.
It was show time. And she may as well go out and restart with a bang.
Chapter Two
In the darkness of the room, Javier Hernandez waited for Elisha to appear. He drummed his fingers on the table in time to the beat of the song pulsing through the speakers. The song was playing for the third time and was about to go into another repeat. If she kept this up, he would have memorized the lyrics to this song before the night's end.
This was a first, Javier admitted to himself. He was not a patient man. He didn't deal with with forced intermissions or deliberate delays. People acquiesced to his needs and wants. Elisha, always recalcitrant, liked to make him wait.
He shouldn't have shown up. She’d set up the terms for tonight, telling him when, what time, and where to show up. Damned if he didn't admire her stubbornness and her tendency to not let him get his way, even if her propensity for lateness chafed his nerves.
He saw a few people milling in the room, and he nodded to the concierge at the door. Within minutes, the men were escorted out. Whatever he wanted in this club, he got. He spent too much money at The Buckhead Club, closing deals over late-night dinners. Never had he indulged in the decadence.
Until tonight.
Javier looked around the room, still shocked that he was here for this. Tonight was a milestone. They had never been alone together in the same place. Always surrounded by lawyers, assistants, accountants, and other staff minions, barriers that kept them away from each other. It was just the two of them now. Man and woman. Enemies. Reluctant partners. Potential...what would this lead to?
He knew where he wanted this to go. As much as he fought the feeling, he burned to see her stripped down, nude in his bed as he drove into her. Where did that interest and desire come from? Javier didn't know. She’d spent most of their limited time together avoiding him and never looking directly at him. She wore bulky, shapeless things—Javier wouldn't dignify those potato sacks as clothes—whenever he was in town. But there was something about her. He sensed a coil of passionate energy in her that had not been unwound. He wanted to be the one to unwind her, to tap that passion.
Chances of that happening were slim. She declared her intent today. She wanted him out of her life—the sooner, the better. Tonight was their last hurrah.
A waitress appeared at his side. “Sir, from E. T.,”
she whispered, crouching down to place an unordered drink and a slip of paper before him. "Enjoy." Javier opened the note and deciphered Elisha's scribble: “This is a real drink, not that crap you sent me.”
He sipped, and his eyes widened. Jack Daniels and Coke. A quick smile crept across his face. She remembered his favorite alcoholic drink. Of course she would. The woman had a memory that latched onto every small and large detail. He was shocked that she remembered anything about him.
Javier traced a finger around the edge of his glass. He never knew what to expect from her. Including tonight. She could have spared herself from this. All he needed tonight was her signature.
Scratch that, he mused. He wanted her. But all the shenanigans attached to tonight, he could have done without.
If only she knew that she had him.
She had thrown him off his game. Profits and pussy, never passion, had been his credo for life. When he first met her, all he’d wanted was her brain, her patents, her ideas, and her expertise. Now he wanted her passion as well, all of her.
He should have reneged on this stupid promise and taken the first thing smoking out of Hartsfield-Jackson after their second-to-last meetings with their lawyers. He was depleted and exhausted. Javier frowned. This was not typical. Winning rejuvenated him; getting what he wanted ignited a fresh fire in him and made him feel like a king who had just emerged victorious from the battlefield. This time, he was numb. He hadn’t gotten everything he wanted from this deal. She’d agreed to most things, but the insolent woman had firmed her chin and told him that she would rather do this than be named his employee starting Monday.
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