It's Been You

by Rina Gray

  “Of course.” She crossed her arms. “And you?”

  His deep chuckle filled the office. “You know it.”

  Tiana could almost taste the competitive spirit that filled the air. Powerful … potent … intoxicating.

  Taking a deep breath, she unwittingly inhaled his scent. Cologne, slightly diluted from the brisk walk he took to work every day after his morning boxing routine, entwined with his delectable natural scent. The only thing she needed to do to complete this sensory overload was taste and touch. And her vivid imagination, like a sixth sense, showed her just how yummy his warm skin would feel and taste on her tongue. She hadn’t felt this sensation in a long, long time.

  A low rumble that sounded almost animalistic cut the silence. Her gaze snapped to his lips. Is that how he’d sound when he came? From my mouth?

  Nathaniel’s knowledge-filled eyes seemed to know just where her thoughts had gone.

  And like a power plug yanked from a socket, the hazy, almost drugging desire ended.

  Thank goodness.

  He returned to his desk, but not before purposely brushing himself against her outstretched legs to check on absolutely nothing at the printer nestled on the table behind her desk. His touch was a promise. A promise she intended to ignore. Been there, done that, got the crappy T-shirt and broken heart to prove it, courtesy of Greg Wilkinson.

  Tiana clicked open her email and immediately sent Mel and Charlotte a message to gather intel on Jake. She needed to get her mind back on track. Knocking this proposal out of the park—pun intended—could mean a promotion and an opportunity to work on an exciting account. And I can finally put my MBA to good use. No more marketing dog food in middle management. She could finally live up to the admiration her younger twin siblings had for her career.

  The campaign would be flawless. Perfect. Something never done before. Besides, her previous proposal wasn’t totally useless. She had background information on the company. Sports cars typically appealed to males ages eighteen to eighty. She laughed to herself. Unfortunately, most of the eighteen- to thirty-five-year-olds couldn’t afford Fiete’s steep prices.

  An hour later, Melanie responded to Tiana’s emails with exciting exclamation marks and smiling emojis. She loved that her enthusiastic friend was happy to help her connect with Jake the Great, as her best friend called him. The ever-efficient Mel also included a zip folder with interviews and a complete profile chock full of professional and personal questions answered by the pitcher himself. Tiana executed backflips, mentally of course, from the little goldmine her friend had provided.

  This cut back hours of research work she would’ve normally done. She glanced over at Nathaniel, clicking away on his keyboard. She almost felt sorry for him. Almost.

  • • •

  Tiana wore a sexy smirk better than a Victoria’s Secret Angel strutting down the runway. Nathan had seen that expression a million times during grad school and knew what the look meant. She’d found something, most likely related to Fiete, that made her happy. Something better than the birthday-cake ice cream he knew was her only food weakness. In grad school, she’d down a few pints while studying for finals and finishing projects in the wee hours of the morning, despite knowing she’d make top marks.

  He shook his head at the recollection. The little trip down memory lane reminded him of when he first saw her at orientation. He’d just moved to Atlanta and had sampled quite a few of the ladies. But when he saw Tiana, he felt like a heavyweight boxer had sucker-punched him in the gut.

  She wore light makeup. Was her dark chocolate skin as flawless as it seemed? Her shiny, pink gloss invited him—hell, probably the entire male portion of the class—to devour those lustrous lips.

  Tan tailored pants covered mile-long legs. A cream shirt clung to a shapely frame, and an orange scarf hung between large, pert breasts. Yes, I remember. And everything else about her, as he’d filed those tidbits away in a brain that had the freakish ability to recall images in great detail. Back then her hair had been a bit longer, resting along the middle of her back.

  But what had stopped his exploration and admiration was when he gave her the look. The look that made most women blush and then duck their heads or maybe boldly return his gaze with a promise of much, much more. She’d felt his stare. He knew because she’d stiffened her shoulders and turned to face him.

  She didn’t smile. She didn’t frown. She was just … frigid.

  And at that moment, he’d categorized Tiana Holliday as an ice queen, and had no intentions of freezing to death in her arms.

  But he was wrong. Tiana could be warm and willing when it benefited her. Just like it had when she and Professor Hoffer had schemed for her to win the internship, awarded to one student from their class, by claiming that Tiana had come up with his idea. From the heated stares the professor gave the ice princess, he had no doubt she had him wrapped around her fingers.

  Anger slammed past his rib cage. Women like Tiana, like his mother, were the definition of Bell Biv DeVoe’s ’90s classic, “Poison.” His mother had trapped his Pops with a smile and promise of forever. But years later, his mother, who he’d called Renita without affection rather than “Mom,” had shown her true commitment to her career as a fashion expert in the wedding industry. Between galas, traveling internationally for fashion shows, and as editor-in-chief of a top wedding magazine, she had no time and no desire to be there for her family. A mass of ice settled over his chest. He wouldn’t get pulled in by Tiana’s sultry appeal. He had no time for someone who was too career-obsessed to care for others.

  Besides, he hadn’t had time to chase women, especially complicated women, back then. He needed to kick ass in grad school. When he’d had the urge to relieve stress, he’d just scrolled through his list of conquests and picked according to his preference.

  Did he want a yeller? A moaner? Someone wild in bed or someone he’d have to coax and later dominate? He had varying tastes and had yet to find a woman that could be everything he needed.

  Tiana’s rhythmic finger tap on her desk interrupted his thoughts. Did she realize she did that nervous tic every time she deliberated a big decision?

  So what big decision did she have today? Looking at her, sitting regally in her large black leather chair, looking perfect and prissy at the same time, he wanted to march over and ruffle her hair, clothes, and lips.

  He didn’t know why he always had the urge to agitate the unflappable Tiana. But when she looked at him as if he were dirt clinging to those sky-high heels she always wore, he decided to ignore his caveman need to drag her to bed and screw her into next week. No, it would be more satisfying to break that statue-like posture and liven those cool eyes with taunts, challenges, and insults.

  Nathan had long ago figured out what made her mad. Taking her stuff all the time and making fun of her fear of clowns by dressing up as one for Halloween made her come alive. She didn’t sit back and take his barbs and antics. She fought back, and he loved it. He admired her spirit. Those cool eyes of hers could burn him up with one look. It would make most men’s dicks shrivel, but not his. If anything, it spurred it to life.

  These days, he had to cover himself up with file folders, notebooks, or a laptop every time those eyes and those heels and that ass in those skirts turned him on. He needed her eyes on him again, not on the damn computer.

  Mouth dry, he swallowed and cleared his throat. “I don’t know why you’re so happy all of a sudden. It’s not like your proposal is going to win.”

  She turned her cool hazel eyes on him, and he silently congratulated himself for getting her attention. But now he needed to make them burn.

  “Oh, Nathaniel. You silly, silly man.” She shook her head sadly. “I’ve never known you to delude yourself.”

  “I’m not the deluded one, Peaches. I’m just sorry that you believe you have a chance at winning. After all, I’m the demographic they’re targeting. Who better to market to them but one of their own?”

  Her eyes be
came an inferno. “Just because I don’t have the right equipment dangling uselessly between my legs doesn’t mean I don’t know how to market to men like you.” She pointed her red-painted fingernails in his direction.

  There it was. The fire. He fed off it like a cold, weary soul seeking heat. “Damn, Peaches.” He mimicked her sad headshake. “I’m not sure what men you’ve been dealing with, but I can assure you that I know how to use my equipment.”

  Her tawny eyes pierced him again. He thrived off the silent challenge. “This isn’t the appropriate place to talk about your equipment and how many times your equipment has been in use.” Ice dripped from her voice. “But if it were, I’d guess that your equipment has seen more action than a neighborhood Laundromat.”

  Stretching her lips into a thin line, she looked down, as if berating herself for losing composure.

  Nathan smiled again. With every day that passed, the mask she wore like a shield slowly cracked and crumbled.

  “Stop bothering me. You’re getting in the way of me creating my winning proposal.”

  He stood. “All right, Peaches. I’m tired of your smart mouth. Time to ante up.”

  Her eyes sparked, and her mouth quirked at the corners. “And how does one ante up, Nathaniel?”

  He put his hands in front of his pants. His dick twitched whenever her pompous voice called him Nathaniel even though he’d repeatedly demanded she call him Nathan or Nate in grad school. “Let’s place a wager. Whoever lands the account wins.”

  “Fine,” she agreed easily. “I’m going to win, anyway. What are we betting?”

  He pretended to think her question over, but he knew what he wanted—to knock her down from her ivory tower and have her live amongst the commoners. “When I win—”

  “You mean when I win.”

  “When I win,” he repeated, unwilling to say that she would be the victor. “You have to do things you wouldn’t normally do.”

  She looked uncomfortable for the first time since they’d started the conversation, squirming just a fraction in her seat. “And what does that mean? What are the guidelines?”

  Guidelines? He smirked to himself. Of course the little control freak needed guidelines and rules and order.

  “You’re going to win anyway, right?” He leaned over to place his hands on her desk, getting a whiff of her spicy scent. “So what does it matter?”

  “I won’t be bullied into going into this bet blind. What do you mean by doing things I wouldn’t normally do?” Her voice was hard as steel.

  “I’m not going to have you do illegal activities or anything that would require you to ask God for forgiveness.” Unfortunately. “I’m just going to expand your horizons and have you do my dry cleaning, those sort of things. Trust me. If you don’t want to do it, a simple ‘no’ will suffice. Although, I will completely lose respect for you not honoring our wager, should you decide to agree.”

  She shook her head. “No deal. You send me the fine print, and then I’ll decide. Now, if I win … hmm … let me think.” She drummed her fingers against the desk and then scrunched her nose. “Excuse me, when I win, you will be my slave. I kind of like the dry cleaning idea, so I’ll add that too. And let’s put a timeframe around our wager. Do you agree to a week?”

  “A week?” Nathan snorted and shook his head. “Don’t be a wuss. I need a month. Thirty days. Seven hundred and thirty—”

  “I got it the first time, Rain Man. A month is fine with me. Now do you agree with being my slave for a month when you lose?”

  He stuck out his hand. “Agreed.”

  “Wait.” She stared at his outstretched hand and then back to his face. “Don’t you want to know what I meant by being my slave?”

  “Nope. Besides, you’re too much of a prude to make me do anything too crazy.”

  “Excellent.” Pushing herself up from her chair, she stood and thrust her hand out for a shake.

  He grasped her soft, slim hand and stared into her molten eyes. “Deal.”

  She had no idea what she’d agreed to, but he planned on winning far more than a chance at leading the account and snagging the director role. He wanted to show everyone—from the directors in the operational departments to his coworkers who assumed he’d gotten so far in his career by his good looks and charming personality—that he was the best person for the job. And this time, she doesn’t have a lovesick professor in her corner to give her the advantage.

  Despite winning nearly half a dozen marketing awards and accolades and graduating top of his class, he still fought for respect. He’d show everyone, and he’d show Tiana, that he was damn good at his job. Oh, yeah. He looked forward to bringing her to her knees.

  Chapter Three

  Tiana looked up from the spread of Post-its, pictures, and printouts when she heard the door to her Chelsea apartment open.

  Melanie huffed, dumping a laptop that Tiana would eventually have to pick up from the floor. Her best friend’s large sandy brown curls bounced as she kicked off her shoes which, Tiana again, would have to place neatly in Mel’s room.

  “Hey girl,” she greeted Tiana then went into the kitchen.

  “Hey. Thanks again for the resources.”

  “Of course.” Mel reached into the fridge for a bottled water and took a deep gulp.

  Shaking her head, Tiana squelched the urge to make her friend pour the water into a glass. She’d accepted long ago that the girl would always do the exact opposite of what her southern debutante training had taught her.

  Mel waved at Tiana’s teal satin short-set pajamas. “You’re a little sexed up to be pulling an all-nighter for your proposal thingy.”

  Tiana rolled her eyes and returned her attention back to the screen.

  “I’m just saying…you look like you’re going to a college frat pajama jam party.”

  “I wear sexy PJs every night. Your officious remarks do nothing to dissuade me.” Tiana smirked, knowing her friend couldn’t pass up the opportunity to play the word game they’d begun as teens.

  “Oh, word of the day!” Mel squealed and clapped. “Ten points, Tiana. But don’t worry, I’ll use it in a sentence soon.”

  “You do that. Meanwhile, I have a question about your Jake the Great.”

  “Go for it. And for the love of God, please don’t let my fiancé hear you say ‘your Jake.’ He’s still sensitive about the fake relationship.”

  “From interviews and your notes, it seems like he’s a family man, which is the total opposite of how the rest of the media treats him.”

  “Yeah.” Melanie furrowed her brow. “It doesn’t help that he changes chicks more than he changes jock straps.” Walking to the couch, she sat opposite Tiana, sitting with her legs stretched on the floor. “But he’s definitely a family guy without the wife and kids. You should see him with his nieces and nephews. Two girls and two boys who come up to visit their Uncle Jake all the time. I swear he enjoys the kids more than his siblings, and he’s super close to them as well.”

  “Hmmm.” Tiana tapped her fingers on the coffee table. “How do I reconcile the baseball player, the ladies’ man, and the family man, all in one sexy sports car?”

  Mel swiped the neighborhood paper from the table. “That’s why they pay you the big bucks, lady. But one thing I would steer clear of … he doesn’t like to be objectified. He hates when people only focus on the outside. It’s okay to acknowledge his good looks, but don’t make it the center of attention.”

  Tiana stood and paced the floor. Little pieces of ideas fell into place. Jake Ross wasn’t your typical jock. He was … versatile. And why couldn’t he be all of those things? Just like the Fiete T-8 series.

  The T-8 was beautifully built, with speed, control, and quick reaction time. Sleek and sexy and speedy, its safety ratings were best in class. Something Jake would want to ensure if he drove around his nieces and nephews. Tiana pumped a victory fist in the air, returned to her makeshift pallet on the floor, and grabbed her laptop. I know exactly how to showcase
the car and its celebrity.

  “I’m guessing from your Serena Williams victory dance you figured something out.”

  “I did. I’ll show you the proposal later. I want it to shine.” Tiana smirked. “I am so going to enjoy Nathaniel being at my beck and call.”

  “What?” Mel didn’t look up while she flipped through the newspaper.

  “Nathaniel and I made a deal.”

  Now her head jerked up, mirth flashing in big brown eyes framed by black glasses. “I’m guessing it has something to do with the car campaign?”

  “Yes.” Tiana folded her legs underneath each other. “Mr. Goldberg told us the new direction and basically pitted us against each other, dangling the director position over our heads.” Tiana rolled her eyes. “So, we were going back and forth about who would win, and then Nathaniel dared me to make a wager.”

  Mel clapped her hands. “I love it! What did you guys bet?”

  “Not that I’ll lose, but if I do, I have to do things I wouldn’t normally do. I’m guessing something crazy like skydiving. When I win, he becomes my slave.”

  Mel gasped but was clearly faking her dismay from the smile that overpowered her face. “What kind of slave? A looovee slave? A sex slave? Oh, you should make him wear skintight leopard undies! And he has to fan you with a giant feather and feed you grapes. Or you can remake that scene in the movie Coming to America, and he can bathe you in a giant tub as big as a pool.”

  “There will be no baths or grapes or sex. I’m going to get him to do things like get lunch, type notes during meetings, and handle dry cleaning.”

  Mel gave Tiana a dubious look. “Like you’ll trust Nathaniel or anyone else to take notes or do dry cleaning.”

  Tiana thought about her roomie’s comments for a moment and shuddered. Nathaniel seemed to thrive in chaos. No, she’d have to give him simple tasks that even chaotic people could perform.

  Mel stared at her for a bit. “So you’re not going to admit it, huh?”

  Tiana massaged her stiff neck. “Admit what?”