Sergei glared at the boy. “It’s called a dishonorable discharge, you idiot.”
Craig puffed his chest out. “Who you calling an idiot?”
The two men were standing face-to-face, squaring off for a fight. Vic shook his head. He couldn’t believe these assholes were arguing over military terminology. That was what happened when testosterone mixed with sunstroke.
A loud catcall pierced the air, breaking up round one of what was sure to be a smack down in Sergei’s favor.
Vic’s wasn’t the only head that turned to look. Several of the men began whistling at a woman Vic recognized as the lady who’d greeted him at his interview. Olivia. He’d since learned she was Ronnie’s secretary. She’d visited the site last week too, switching to her own beat. Strutting those long legs in super high heels. If he didn’t know better, he would have thought Olivia was trying to pick up a man.
He looked around to see if Ronnie was with her.
Nope.
Vic wasn’t surprised. He hadn’t seen hide nor hair of Ronnie Jones since he’d started this job. He’d convinced himself that he liked it that way. It was too hard to concentrate with her around. Jeez, it was bad enough he thought about that uptight woman more than he should. He got a woody every time he remembered how he’d brushed up against her ass that night her dress ripped. The kiss she gave him probably didn’t mean anything to her. She was just being nice.
Suddenly, Sergei pivoted and leaned over to get a better look at Ronnie’s secretary. Vic watched as the man ogled Olivia as she sauntered past. Not watching where he was going, Sergei tripped over a pile of rubble and fell headfirst toward the concrete slab below. Fortunately, he missed the slab. Unfortunately, a nearby wheel barrel of dirt broke his fall. He cracked his jaw on the metal edge of the wheel barrel. Vic winced at the bone crushing sound that filled the air.
Shit! That had to hurt.
Olivia turned to look at the commotion.
“Man down!” one of the guys yelled.
Olivia giggled and batted her long and obviously fake eyelashes. “I’ve never had anybody fall that hard for me,” she said. “Are you okay?”
When Sergei opened his mouth to say something, he spit out two bloody teeth instead.
# # #
“I hope you can see how your behavior was threatening.”
“Olivia threatened the safety of my men out there.”
“Your men? You are not the foreman, Vic.”
“Thank God for that. Your foreman is doing a lousy job. He’s hardly ever on the site, and when he is, he reeks of liquor! The men deserve better. This project deserves better.”
Ronnie stared at Vic as he leaned over her desk, knuckles pressed firmly into the cherry wood. She remained seated, trying to stay calm. How different he was from three weeks ago when he’d sat in the chair across from hers. Then, he was a cocky man looking for a job. Today, he was still cocky, but he was standing up for not only his rights, but the rights of the men on the crew as well.
She’d had no hand in hiring the foreman, Kent Sanders. She’d needed someone on quick notice, and Allen had recommended the man. She folded her arms over her white, silk blouse. “Mr. Sanders comes highly recommended,” she said. “I was told he has thirty years of experience.”
“Well, maybe he’s grown complacent. Although if he saw Olivia strutting back and forth, he’d probably make a point of coming to work more often.”
Ronnie scoffed. “You are unbelievable. You go around talking about giving people a second chance, yet you judged Olivia by one incident of bad judgment.”
“She’s too much of a distraction, prancing around in her skimpy clothes and getting the men riled up.”
“What would you have her do? Cover up in a hijab!”
“No need to go to those lengths. She should just say off the site.”
“You act like those men are a pack of ravenous dogs not in control of their own libidos.”
Vic leaned forward, invading Ronnie’s personal space. “Some women can drive a man to that sort of behavior.”
Her heart lodged in her throat as Vic’s verdant eyes met hers. She squeezed her legs tight. The word ‘drive’ made her think of him driving into her over and over again.
Goodness, why am I torturing myself like this? Maybe I’m the one who needs a vibrator full of fresh batteries.
She forced herself to break contact and look away. Then, she stood and walked toward her office door. “What happened was an accident, Vic. I’ll speak to Olivia about it, but as far as I’m concerned, this conversation is over.”
“Was it an accident when she laughed too?” Vic demanded. “Blood was dripping down Sergei’s chin, and your secretary had the nerve to laugh.”
“That’s just Olivia. She’s fun-loving.”
“That woman has a lot of growing up to do.”
Okay, she’d had just about enough of him forcing his opinions on her. “Listen, Mr. Romano, if you think—”
He backed her into a nearby wall, catching her totally off-guard. “Let’s dispense with all the pleasantries, shall we? I’m just plain old Vic. No need to call me Mister.”
Ronnie’s jaw dropped in shock. Not from the bold way Vic pressed his body against hers, but from the sparks of heat turning the space between her legs into liquid fire. She ignored the feeling. She had to keep her wits about her. “Don’t think I owe you some coochie just because you saved me from being stranded on a dark road!”
“And don’t think I owe you a night of pleasure just for giving me a job, ‘cause I don’t.”
She tried and failed miserably to control her rapid-fire breathing. Vic’s lips were dangerously close to hers. She could smell his minty breath mingling with his natural odor. He was virile. Confident. All-consuming. She couldn’t even step back, he had her practically sandwiched between himself and the wall. How she itched to have him press those lips to hers. Grind his pelvis against hers. Slide his fingers beneath the skirt she wore. Was he really contemplating giving her a night of pleasure? Her nipples tightened in response.
No! No! No!
Just because you haven’t had a decent lay in years, doesn’t mean you can lose focus, girl.
Ronnie turned her sexual frustration on Vic. “What is wrong with you?” she fumed.
His eyes flashed as they scanned her face and settled on her quivering lips. “Oh, I can assure you, there’s not a single thing wrong with me. You’re welcome to find out, if you dare.” His gaze stayed fixated on her mouth. “But if I were you, I’d steer clear of me.”
Her heart slammed against her ribcage. “It’s my job site! How dare you tell me to stay away?” She pummeled his solid chest with her tiny fists—an action akin to punching a brick wall. “You can take your male chauvinist pig ways and leave!”
He caught her wrists in his steely grip. “Are you firing me?”
Her chest heaved. Raw, sexual energy flooded her veins. Her coochie throbbed. Her nipples tingled. She should be pissed that he was making demands on her. If any other man had dared to pin her to the wall, she would have called security and had the jerk put out on his ass.
Ronnie took a deep breath and exhaled it slowly. The thought of Vic leaving didn’t sit well with her for some reason. “I’m not firing you,” she said. “I’m trying to talk some sense into your thick skull. Most women don’t like men who order them around. As I said, they find it threatening.”
He devoured her with his gaze. “Most women? What about you? You like it when a man comes on strong? Tells you what to do?”
He leaned in, trapping her on either side. His arms were a muscular vice surrounding her. He stroked her cheek with the rough pad of his thumb. Her knees buckled.
“What about you, Ronnie?” he taunted. “Do you want a man who takes charge?”
God, yes! I like a man who takes command.
She gulped. “No,” her voice barely squeaked out.
He tossed her a sarcastic grin. “Liar.”
His head bent
low. His mouth was mere inches from hers. The space between her legs flared like a furnace turned on high. Her pulse raced.
Vic licked his lips.
Ronnie parted hers, waiting.
A few heartbeats later, he pulled back. His eyes narrowed and then returned to their natural almond shape.
“Fine.” He held up his hands. “Since you prefer a docile man, I have no place here. That ain’t my style.”
Disappointment gathered in Ronnie’s mouth and slid down the back of her throat like an unappetizing drink.
What’s wrong with me? First, I practically bite his head off. Now, I’m dying for him to kiss me!
Wordlessly, Vic left her office without so much as a goodbye glance.
Ronnie adjusted her creased blouse and walked back to her desk on shaky legs. She sagged with relief when she made it to her chair.
When she sat down, she felt a pool of moisture between her legs. It was the first time she could recall being wet at work. If Vic Romano was anywhere around, she was sure it wouldn’t be the last.
SEVEN
“What do women want?”
Ronnie turned to the alto voice that was decidedly getting deeper each day. With cocoa bean skin and dark, brooding eyes, her son, Jovan, was the spitting image of his father, Frank. She scanned his outfit.
Sneakers with the laces loose.
Skinny jeans.
Shirt too tight.
When she was a teenager, guys wore baggy pants and shirts. Today, the trend was the opposite.
She stood in front of the stove of her modest kitchen preparing his Saturday breakfast. “Why are you asking me that?”
He shrugged. “Just curious.”
“Okay, who is she?”
“Who?”
“The little girl who has you trippin’, wondering what women want.”
Jovan shot her a lop-sided grin. “Nobody, Mama. I told you, I was just curious.”
“Well, I can’t tell you what women want. If I did, you’d know all of our secrets. It would upset the balance of life if men knew what we wanted. Societal norms would be grossly disrupted and the world would be tilted on its axis, causing everything to come to a grinding halt.”
“Wow! And to think I almost asked you for the definition of grassroots instead. This is so much more impactful.”
Her first impulse was to pat him on the head like she used to do when he was a toddler. But her pre-adolescent was almost the same height as her. The only way she could see the top of his head was to get on a stepladder. “Don’t you know us women get a secret thrill keeping the male species in the dark?” she teased.
“Aw, c’mon.”
Ronnie laughed. “Seriously, Jovan, don’t worry about what women want. We don’t even know what we want half of the time. Just be yourself. If the girl likes you, it’s all good. If she doesn’t, then she’s not the one for you.”
“Is that how it was with you and Dad?”
“Yes, exactly,” she lied.
Too bad Jovan’s late father couldn’t be here to see his son growing into a fine young man. The way things were going, if Frank hadn’t died in the line of duty in Afghanistan, they probably wouldn’t even be together anyway. Ronnie didn’t have the heart to serve him divorce papers while he was fighting on another continent. She thought she was being kind by waiting for him to return. Then, when she got the letter telling her he was dead, she felt even guiltier.
Her son was oblivious to what had gone on in their marriage. Jovan was six when his father passed away. He had only good memories of the man. As well he should. Ronnie didn’t want her child to be exposed to any of her drama. Even when Frank was alive, he was never there for her emotionally. He treated her more like an inconvenience. His death had left a void in her. As a result, she wasn’t ready to jump into any relationships anytime soon. She didn’t think a man could handle her demands anyway. She wanted someone to pay attention to her. Lavish her with affection. Treat her like a queen.
She wanted a man like her sister, Candace, had. Gabe was so attentive and giving. And to think, Candace had almost passed him up. When they met, her sister didn’t think Gabe was good enough for her. Ronnie had to admit, Gabe was rough on the exterior, but he had a heart of platinum.
Did men like Gabe even exist anymore, she wondered? Ronnie didn’t get out of the office enough to meet anyone. Well, no one that held her interest.
Except Vic.
Her stomach flip-flopped thinking about the rugged and outspoken hunk. In many ways he reminded her of Gabe. Tall, dark and alpha. And he’d saved her from possibly being ravaged by some guy on a lonely dark road.
Only so he could ravage you himself.
When she thought about it, Vic was really her knight in shining armor. Only his armor didn’t have that spit-shine sparkle. It had a little rust, and some dents and nicks. Definitely rough around the edges.
Her thoughts wandered to the night her dress got caught in the door of his SUV. She’d worn her new panties that night. She wondered if he could see the new lace underwear she’d bought on a whim the day before from a popular lingerie store. He hadn’t mentioned the incident. Most women would have been overcome with embarrassment. She was also, to an extent. Another part of her was secretly thrilled. She wondered if Vic liked what he saw. Was she sexy to him? Was she the type of woman he’d go for? The man was pure testosterone in a bottle. She wouldn’t mind uncorking it and having a taste.
“Mom!”
Ronnie turned, feeling guilty, hoping her son couldn’t read her thoughts. “Yes?”
“The pancakes are burning.”
Damn! She was so busy fantasizing she forgot about the flapjacks she’d been making. She grabbed the spatula and began flipping the batter that had fluffed up.
“You had that far away look in your eyes,” Jovan said. “Like you were daydreaming.”
“Yeah, um, I…was…uh...”
The doorbell rang, saving her from any further explanation.
Ronnie padded barefoot to the front door, dressed in a pair of warm-up shorts and an oversized t-shirt. She figured one of her sisters had dropped by for an impromptu visit. She was shocked and strangely delighted to see Vic when she looked through the peephole.
“I’m sorry,” he told her when she opened the door. “I overreacted yesterday.”
He looked damn good. From his mud-caked jeans to his steel-toed boots to the day-old, dark stubble on his chin. The man exuded sexiness.
“Would you like to come in?” she asked.
His six-foot-five frame loomed in her doorway. “I’m dirty. Don’t want to get mud all over your floor. I just came from the site.”
Ronnie glanced over his broad shoulder to see his SUV parked at the curb. A generous helping of mud coated the tires and the fenders. She laughed. “Yeah, both you and your truck could use a bath.”
A rakish grin spread across his handsome features. “I got the truck covered. You offering to take care of the mud on me?”
A rush of warmth spread through her like a heat wave on a Texas summer day. Vic’s pants were as dirty as the thoughts she was having of him. Before she could come up with a flippant reply, she heard a voice behind her.
“Hi.” Jovan’s voice interrupted her erotic conversation.
Shame took over as Ronnie struggled to pop back into Mom Mode.
But Vic didn’t miss a beat. He held his hand out to shake Jovan’s. “I’m Vic,” he offered.
Vic’s massive palm swallowed her son’s small hand.
Ronnie made the introductions. “Vic,” she said, “this is my son Jovan. Jovan, this is Vic Romano.”
Jovan pumped Vic’s hand. Ronnie was so proud of him. Only twelve years old and acting like a grown-up.
Vic chuckled. “That’s a strong grip, partner.”
Jovan beamed. “Thanks!”
“Ever thought of playing baseball?”
Jovan’s eyes lit up with that remark. Then, just as quickly, the spark died when he saw the look of
disapproval on Ronnie’s face. “I want to, but Mom says sports are too dangerous.”
Vic’s eyes shot to Ronnie’s. “Aw, that’s too bad. I could teach the boy a thing or two,” he told her. “Baseball is my game.”
“Are you a friend of my mom’s?” Jovan asked Vic.
Ronnie jumped in. “Vic and I work together.”
“Well,” Vic corrected, casually slinging his thumbs through the dirty belt loops of his jeans. “It’s more like I work for her. Basically I just do what she tells me.”
Jovan nodded. “Yeah, I know what you mean. She does me the same way.”
Ronnie smirked as the two of them laughed at her expense. “Both of y’all need to quit,” she admonished. “Neither one of you listen anyway.”
“Okay.” Vic held his hands up in mock surrender. “Mama knows best, young man. Always listen to her. Maybe then she’ll let you play a game of catch with me.”
“Can I, Mom? Please? Paleeasse?” Jovan drew the word out into two syllables.
Ronnie capitulated. “We’ll see.”
“Thanks!” Her son squeezed her hand in a rare display of affection. “See ya around, Vic!” Jovan called out as he bounded away.
Ronnie watched as Jovan practically skipped back into the house. Any other time she couldn’t get that child to budge unless there was some skillful negotiation involved.
“Fine boy you’ve got there,” Vic complimented.
“Thank you.”
“I really don’t mind playing catch with him. You should think about letting me teach him the fundamentals. Sometimes a boy needs a man around to help with those things.”
She folded her arms over her chest. “You’re assuming there isn’t one around?”
“Is there?” His green eyes held hers captive, like Wonder Woman’s truth lasso, demanding total honesty. Damn, how did he always manage to call her bluff?
“No,” she admitted.
Vic rewarded her with another one of his lazy grins. “I’ll see you on Monday, Ronnie.”
Blueprint for Love Page 6