by Xyla Turner
By Chance, No Choice
Stetson Series
Xyla Turner
Contents
By Chance, No Choice
Copyright
Acknowledgments
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
Sneak Peek - Under Further Review
Under Further Review: Chapter 1
Under Further Review: Chapter 2
About the Author
Also by Xyla Turner
XYLA’S CONTACT INFORMATION
By Chance, No Choice
Stetson Series
By Xyla Turner
AZINA MEDIA PUBLICATIONS
237 Flatbush Avenue, #187 Brooklyn, NY 11217
This is an original publication of AZINA MEDIA PUBLICATIONS.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.
Copyright © 2015 AZINA MEDIA PUBLICATIONS
Cover Page by Dynasty Cover Me
Edited by Pure Harmony Literary Services
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Purchase only authorized edits.
All rights reserved.
Created with Vellum
Acknowledgments
To my family, friends, co-workers, supporters, and fellow authors!
Xyla World, you are more than I ever expected.
Shatisha Nash, you always have my back.
#official
To my sister, thank you for your support.
#oneday
To Him that allows me to fly like an eagle!
Chapter 1
Tess
Type A is what they called me. I didn't quite frankly care what they said, I had a job to do and I intended to do it, despite what anyone said about it.
They being my co-workers, colleagues, and clients. My type is what they reference me with, yet when there was a crisis, they appreciated my personality. Why? Because while we may be meticulous, we did it and we made sure every “t” was crossed and "i" was dotted. We ask the hard questions and we may probe a dead corpse, but we were the people that others referred to when there was a crisis. Often, I wanted to say, "Ah, now you want me to come in and fix your mistake."
I guess that was the job of the Vice-President at LIT Technologies, Incorporated.
The President and Founder, Michael Owens, was a solid man. In the midst of adversity and negative backlash that he received for considering me as a candidate for this VP position, he still hired me. He looked them all in their faces and said, "She’s my choice. Tess can run circles around the lot of you."
They were from the good old boys’ club. Surprisingly, so was Michael but I'm sure his membership was revoked or at least questioned. They stuck together, hired their friends and kept everything within the club.
It was probably water under the bridge now because I had been in the position for five years. Lately, my job included traveling more since LIT, had expanded. This included conferences and all types of professional development in the hopes to network, grow and expand the business. Hence, why I had on my little black dress about to go to the evening formal event of the three-day conference in Arizona.
The attendees were housed at the Ligula Resort and all food and drinks were free. I was the only one from my company because Michael didn't trust many people to represent him and still maintain some common sense. It made sense since he learned the hard way.
One time, Craig, one of LIT’s associates, went to an event that had an open bar and he drank so much, the hosts had to escort him home. This was Michael's good friend, so it was equally embarrassing on a professional and personal level. Another time, Dick, another LIT associate, tied one on so bad, he accidentally tucked in a corner of the tablecloth, fell asleep and when he was jolted away he pulled the contents on the table on the ground with him. The worst part was the fact that it was the head table and our host had food all over them.
Michael had enough and only I was sent out to represent him or the company. This pissed some folks off initially, but they still played golf and did what the good ole’ boys did in their spare time.
As I stepped into the ballroom with my four-inch heels, off-black stockings that had the black seam running up the middle on the back of my leg, little makeup, small diamond studs and my hair pinned up to display my neck, I was all alone. The single life I had grown to love and embrace because it was what I knew and I have found great comfort in my zone. The truth was, my colleagues were not completely off about my personality type. I was, indeed, impatient, competitive and a chronic multi-tasker. There was no room for a relationship if I were to be honest. And that was okay with me.
There was not one soul in that room who knew me but it was my job to put aside my resting bitch-face, cloak myself with a pleasant disposition and meet new people. That was fine with me even in a male-dominated industry like technology. Most guys underestimated me until we began to talk shop, then they were intimidated because I always made it clear that though I was a woman did not mean I didn’t belong at the table. They usually received the point.
“Drink, madam?” The waiter asked as I crossed the threshold of the medium-sized ballroom.
There were tables in the center of the room, a stage up front with a live band, food scattered around the outskirts of the room and it was extremely bright as every light and chandelier were turned to the highest watt.
“No, thank you.” I smiled at the waiter.
Briefly, I looked at my card that was securely stuck in the front of my clutch purse which provided my seat number. Confidently, I strode to the seat and gathered the gift that was on the chair. There was a pair of video glasses in the box from a company that wanted one of the attending companies to adopt. We always received expensive gifts in an effort to spread the word about various products. If the technology representatives were sporting a new product, it must be good, was usually their motto. In a way it worked, except this was my fourth pair of video glasses in the past year.
“Tess, Tess, look at you?” I turned around to see the guy that was in one of my seminars I attended earlier.
It could not be.
He did not resemble the man that I saw earlier, at all. The guy that was in the seminar had on khakis, a plaid button-down shirt, cowboy boots and his hair was feathered back in a semi-Mohawk. The man that stood before me had on a tailored-made black suit with cufflinks, a white pressed expensive shirt with the most intoxicating cologne. To top off his ensemble, he had on a cowboy hat.
Hats on men, weren’t necessarily my thing and though I’d visited the south on many occasions, it was not a favorite of mine. I like New York with the hustle and bustle of things. It could get overwhelming, but I thrived in that atmosphere. However, that cowboy hat lowered over the top of his head did not only say sexy, but I wanted to try it on.
What?
>
In the seminar, he did not stand out even though he was in my group and we shared a brief moment of comradery because he and I had similar situations. His former co-worker was older than him and felt he belonged in his seat and I had a similar situation. We briefly discussed the woes of being leads in our fields but that was all. Nothing spectacular. Now he was calling me by my name and I didn’t have the slightest idea of his.
“Hey, yourself.” I smiled and half-turned in my seat.
He pulled out the empty chair next to me and sat down. “You look. I mean, wow. You look beautiful.”
“You don’t look so bad yourself.” My smile was still plastered on my face as I attempted to see if he had a ring on his left hand.
Some guys made it a habit to have all types of fun when they were away and I surely did not want to be a victim of that.
Nope.
There was no ring.
“No, you do be it all,” he said with a thick country accent.
“Where are you from?” I asked.
“The good ole’ state of Iowa,” he proudly replied with a huge grin. “I know you’re from the big Apple. Written all over ya face.”
I laughed. “Is it that obvious?”
“Oh yeah.” He nodded. “It’s a 10-foot banner that says BEWARE,” he raised his voice, “I’m from New York,” he drawled.
My teeth were showing with my mouth opened as I laughed at his assessment. The man was funny with his country self.
“It’s not that bad,” I managed to say. “I’m just a serious person.”
“That you are, but my God. A sexy one too.”
Whoa.
Okay, he just crossed the line from silliness to flirty. This was where I stopped him.
“So, where are your colleagues?” I asked.
“Ah, ya getting rid of me that fast, huh?” He nodded as if he understood his transition did not work. “Okay, Ms. Tess. You enjoy your evening, alright?”
Wait. I wanted to give the brush off, but in a polite way. Yet, when he called me out on it, I wanted to deny that is what I was doing.
Dang.
“You enjoy yours too.” I turned around and began to fidget with the video glasses.
This was single life at its best and to top it off; I happened to like my comfort zone at the worst possible time. Love the comfort of being alone and the familiarity it brings. What I didn’t like, was the possibility of someone, even a gorgeous man invading that for me, especially some southern brute who wears a cowboy hat to a banquet, no matter how sexy it may look on him.
The rest of the evening went by fairly well and I made numerous contacts and turned down a couple of ‘meet me in my room’ proposals. While the thought of having a man in my bed was appealing for the night, it was only our first night which meant I had two more left. I had no intentions of dodging a guy I had a one-night stand with at a conference for more than two days. That was not wise and I would never give Michael the opportunity to band me from representing the company.
When I returned back to my room after the event was over, I felt on edge. This often happened, which only meant, I needed to relax. I thought about the hot tub that was outside, the bath that was inside and my vibrator in my carryon bag. There was no shame because it was something I often used as I stayed on edge but since I was at the extravagant hotel, I could indulge a little.
My room bath won and I could get off at the same time. I usually thought about Idris Elba or Omari Hardwick when I relieved myself, but this time, as I was in the tub soaking and rubbing my hard nub, the cowboy popped in my head and I could almost smell his intoxicating cologne.
I was getting close. I thought of his accent, that hat, and taking off that tailor-made suit with my teeth. He was extremely tall, maybe six-foot-five and he took great care of his body. My hands would roam his hard chest until I had enough and then I’d lick each nipple.
It was coming, I felt the sensation rushing down my spine and heating my scorching center.
“That you are, by God. A sexy one too.” I remembered him saying with his Iowa accent and his deep voice.
That was the nail that sealed the coffin and my climax almost paralyzed me causing my toes to curl. That was a first, confirming that he was someone I’d need to avoid for the rest of this sales conference.
Chapter 2
Tess
The next day’s sessions were great and I was able to take away some key things that would help LIT continue to move to the next level. During our lunch break, I sat with a group from the east coast. They were easy to spot because we all had turtlenecks and slacks since there was a blizzard going on in the New York/Pennsylvania area.
“You think we’re going to be stuck here for the blizzard?” One guy asked another one at the table.
“Naw, it’ll be fine. The airports are prepared for shit like this.” He confidently spouted off.
“Man, I hope you’re right.” The first guy replied.
“Get comfortable and get an extra night because that blizzard is going to hit New York bad. My father has worked for the airlines for over twenty years and he already told me to buckle in.” She looked at the guy who asked the initial question.
“Hmm,” I mumbled.
I trust veterans of their craft before I trust cocky men trying to look tough in a conversation. As I finished my lunch, I heard my name being called.
“Tess. Tess,” a deep voice called with a severe southern accent.
That was nobody but that guy whose name I did not remember.
I was standing near the group of women because the guys had left to find out about the golf excursion. If I would make any friends, they would definitely be with the ladies since there were so few of us. Some of them had already picked out men they wanted to know on a deeper level, yet I was trying to avoid the one who kept finding me.
“Hey, you.” I turned and smiled.
He was back in his cowboy boots, black slacks and a button down white shirt. Damn, he still looked good.
“Say, you and me tonight. There’s a place in town near the college I want to try out. How ‘bout you join me?” He asked straight away, no teaser.
“Thanks for the offer, but I have some plans tonight.”
“You don’t anymore, Tess. They’ve just been canceled.”
Uh, what?
“Excuse me?” If I was slouching, I wasn’t anymore.
“Your plans.” He walked closer to me as the women inhaled and chattered behind me. “They’ve just been canceled.”
I could smell his cologne and goddamn, he might have been a cowboy, but he sure knew what went well with his body’s natural fragrance. The man smelled delicious as his scent teasing my nose.
“Look, whatever your name is.” I took a step towards him. “You don’t cancel my plans. You don’t tell me what to do and you do not make plans for me. Is that understood?”
“You don’t know my name?” He asked.
“That was all that you heard?” I asked back.
“I know your name. Tess Rainey. You are the Vice-President of LIT Technologies, Incorporated. Your President is Michael Owens and you are from Philadelphia.”
He had done his research and rightfully so since any good salesman should conduct a quality investigation to have a chance at winning the client. However, I was not a client and I was not for sale.
“Good research.” I acknowledged. “However, those tidbits won’t get you a date.”
He took another step towards me and asked, “What will?”
“Nothing because I am not available.” I lifted my chin up in the air and walked off.
In the background, I heard one of the women say, “I am.”
There was no need to turn around and find out which one or if he actually took her up on it because I really was not interested in starting something on this trip. Michael trusted me for a reason and I worked too hard to let a temporary pleasure mess me up. That is what happened to Craig and Dick.
Once dinner roll
ed around, I realized that most of the conference attendees were out on the town. The host gave everyone the night to relax and had several shuttles transport herds of salesmen and women out on the town. It was gracious of them but I planned to have a quiet night in, maybe a bath and definitely a whirl with my trusty vibrator.
My potatoes were gone, which left a majority of my steak on my plate.
“You save the best for last, eh?” That southern voice vibrated in my corner of the hotel restaurant.
Damn, I knew I should have ordered room service.
“How is it that we keep running into each other? Aren’t you supposed to be out? I know you should have been able to get a date for tonight.”
He laughed a hearty chuckle that I could almost feel shake the table even though he was standing.
“Yes, ma’am. I had a few offers but I wasn’t interested. I told them chasing salesmen won’t land a ring on those fingers.” He quipped.
“Chasing down women that aren’t interested won’t land them in your bed either,” I retorted.
“On the contrary, sweetheart.” This time, he sat down across from me and popped a piece of my cut steak into his mouth. “I’m from the good state of Iowa and there are some keys things besides Johnny Carson and Herbert Hoover being born there, that I’ve learned. My name,” he pointed to me, “means Hunter and I won the lasso competition ten years in a row.”
What in heaven’s name was he talking about? Johnny Carson? Hunter?
I sighed. “Don’t touch my steak.”
That was all I could come up with to combat his chattering about things that made no sense.
“All of that means, sweetheart.” He grabbed another piece. “When something is in my sight, I go for it until it’s mine.” He leaned in so only I could hear him. “All mine. Submitted. Willing. And wanting to be mine.”
If there were water in my mouth, I would have spat it out, but there wasn’t, so I coughed/laughed. To say his words weren’t hot would be a lie. To say my panties weren’t damper than they were when he first came over would be another fib. Now, did I want to grab the collar of his shirt and pull him on top of me in the restaurant? Well, that would be the truth.