“No. More like determined. This is going to happen, even if I have to beat him at golf to get what I want.” Tamara knew the nervous tremors in her stomach would radiate throughout her body when she actually had to go through with her crazy idea.
“Good luck, crazy lady. Don’t get arrested.” Becky left the room.
“I’ll need a bit more than luck,” Tamara said softly.
She headed for the shower with her mind already wandering to the possible outcomes. Under the cascading warm water, she practiced the speech that she hoped would get support for her guys’ internships.
And, yes. They were her guys, as if she was their foster mother. She cared deeply for each teen. All the young men in her academy formed a natural, close bond with her and the staff. They were almost like the younger siblings she’d never had as an only child.
The connection with each teen who came into the academy bridged what she missed by not having a big family, but more important, it helped refocus her goal to be an advocate. More than anything, she wanted to work with young adults and to be an activist with the same spirit and determination as her parents.
Her strong desire to see the guys stay on the right path also made her protective of them and pushy about them seizing opportunities. Her loyal staff worked hard to keep their reputation growing and significant in the community. In this case, she wasn’t going to pause in her efforts until all ten students had been placed with the right company.
Especially since the teens in this set were the diehard gamers of the academy. What a coup if she could get them into Benson Technologies. The hands-on experience in a top company would be invaluable. Plus they would have access to their dream jobs.
By the time she left her home in Tysons Corner, Virginia, the morning traffic had flooded the roadways for the early morning commute. Tamara expertly maneuvered her car through the city and out of the state to adjoining Maryland. Normally, she’d continue on the 495 Beltway loop toward the city of College Park to her academy.
This morning she aimed for Potomac, Maryland, the wealthy residential suburb where her parents lived and where Benson had an enormous mansion, one of at least three of his reported homes. She glanced in the rearview mirror, not only for the traffic but also to have a close-up check of her face.
She’d kept makeup to a minimum but didn’t want to look too bare. A light dusting of foundation smoothed over her skin’s almost invisible imperfections. Mascara and eyeliner had been applied with a deliberate touch for a sophisticated, rather than dramatic, look. She didn’t like to worry about her hair and had opted to twist its length into a bun. Diamond stud earrings fit in each ear, their size and clarity showing off their value. The last touch was a light, coppery shimmer on her lips. All in all, she should be able to hold his attention long enough to get her point across.
Twenty minutes later, Tamara pulled up to the formidable security gate that allowed access to the country club’s exclusive members and their playground. She was sure that, if she tried hard enough, she could detect a whiff in the air of the wealthy and powerful. The club’s close proximity to the seat of power in Washington, D.C., and the nearby stately homes, attracted politicians, elite professional athletes, dignitaries and influential businessmen. After presenting her driver’s license and club membership pass, Tamara drove onto the property. All around her was an overly green oasis of three hundred acres.
She parked the car herself, instead of valet parking, and retrieved her golf clubs from the trunk before heading to the main building. On cue, her pulse ratcheted its beat, matching her quick footsteps like background percussion. By the time she entered the cool interior of the building, her thoughts had fractured into various compartments of worries.
Panic soured her stomach. She gulped to keep down the coffee she’d had earlier. No time to deal with her weak stomach.
Suck it up.
How many times did she chant this as her new mantra? Just about every day. She would’ve liked to think that she had the spine for a few gutsy moves, but nothing about this situation was normal. If she couldn’t get the company to commit to accepting the students, well, then, who knew what she’d be able to get for them? Definitely no other internship would engage them and guarantee their success like this one would. A compromise could mean the difference between a career and a life back on the streets.
Plus, compromising made her want to punch something.
“Good morning, Miss Wendell. How are you this morning?” The concierge greeted her with a wide, bright white, toothy smile.
“Fine. Um...can you tell me if Mr. Benson has headed out to the tee? Don’t want him to start without me.” She giggled to maintain her nonthreatening demeanor.
“Sure.” Without hesitation, the concierge pulled up a screen on his computer tablet. “He hasn’t checked in. But you’re about ten minutes early.”
“Great.” Tamara pasted on a smile, but her lips trembled under the effort of acting like an empty-headed ditz. She headed to the private lockers to stash a few things before heading to the golf area.
“Tamara, is that you?”
Tamara turned and spotted the club’s biggest gossip making a beeline in her direction.
“Hi, Mrs. Roberts. Yes, it’s me.” Tamara tried not to cringe.
“Haven’t seen you around the neighborhood.” Mrs. Roberts made a show of looking around her. “Are you alone?”
“I’m playing a round in a few minutes.” Tamara hoped that the emphasis on “a few minutes” would have an effect. She didn’t respond to the “alone” question. Mrs. Roberts liked to tell everyone that her children were all happily married to movers and shakers, and that she had the world’s most precious grandchildren. Since Tamara scored a fat zero in both the marriage and children areas of life, Mrs. Roberts would always “tsk” with faked sympathy.
“I’ll let you go, then.” She tilted up her heavily lined cheek.
Tamara got close for the cheek-to-cheek kiss. She was too old to keep being the victim of Mrs. Roberts’s sniping tongue. However, her mother would admonish her for not being respectful.
She heard the soft double “tsk” in her ear as she pulled away from the unwanted embrace.
“Please let your mother know that I’ll be in touch. The Ladies Group is sponsoring a trip to Vegas and proceeds are going to the county library. We need to get more serious books on the shelves and drown out all those silly books about wizards and vampires.”
“I’ll let her know. But she is an avid reader of those kinds of books. She has tons of those books at her bedside. Tons.” Tamara held her arms open wide.
Mrs. Roberts’s shock was priceless. She knew that meant the busybody would call her mother and that her mother would bite the bait and call to chastise her. At the end of that rebuke would be more information about the latest wonderful thing that some Roberts’s offspring had done.
Since her dad’s death, her mother had become fixated with putting her on the fast track to marriage and motherhood. Maybe her mom wanted the comfort of seeing a baby born into the family. Thankfully, her mother wasn’t the matchmaking type, although she had her share of nosy friends, such as Mrs. Roberts, to keep her mind on Tamara’s lack of suitors.
Tamara turned on her heel and walked away from Mrs. Roberts. She rushed to the smaller clubhouse that catered to the serious golfers who didn’t want to deal with the hectic buzz of the main clubhouse. Grant was bound to arrive at any moment. Sitting nearby would give her the advantage of sizing him up as he came into the building.
Besides what she’d read and seen on TV about the man, she didn’t know much about him. Their paths had certainly never crossed at the club or any of his social or business gatherings. They traveled in separate circles. Right now, that was a hindrance to what she wanted. But there was always more than one way to get the prize—such as dressing up for a golf game
she hadn’t been invited to play.
She ordered a soda and pulled out her phone to catch up on emails. But not even work held her attention for long. She couldn’t stop thinking about the article she’d read that said Grant Benson had been a computer genius from a young age, excelling in high school, but that he had a brusque personality that earned him his share of enemies in school. Two years into a computer design major at the best college in the country, he’d left, armed with an early model of a successful computer game with more bells and whistles than she could appreciate. Major companies had offered to buy the design, but Grant had refused, earning criticism for his bullheaded stance.
Obviously he had known what he was doing because he’d gotten his financial backing that year, opened his company and never looked back. Now he competed with those same companies that had tried to buy his start-up. Year after year, he launched new innovative games and systems that created a cult following of teens and college gamers. Supposedly he liked riding his motorcycle when he was mulling over a project. Black T-shirts, black jeans and black tennis shoes were his standard getup. At an early age, he’d become vegetarian and gotten into yoga to stimulate his energy.
As for his personal life, she couldn’t make a judgment. Not much had been written. Though she didn’t give a damn about his personal dating habits, she couldn’t help the small nudge of curiosity. After all, she had tracked all his other personal details. Plus he was too insanely gorgeous not to have women drooling over him. Only once had he been photographed with a supermodel. Rumors were that they were a serious item, but he got cold feet when she demanded a ring. Plus the prenup was a deal breaker for her. Neither one had ever confirmed or denied the rumors.
If the prenup rumor was true, Tamara almost felt bad for him. She had nothing against prenups, and she knew how money had the power to attract the bottom-feeders of the dating pool who didn’t care one bit about you. Men seemed ever ready to fix on her material possessions or be intimidated by her personal wealth, and so she was always hesitant to date much.
Her phone buzzed and an incoming text popped in from Becky.
Becky: How’s it going
Tamara: Waiting 4 him to arrive
Becky: OK let me know if he is sexy
Tamara: Don’t you have work to do?
Becky: Doing it. I can multi-task
Tamara: Bye!
Becky: Details plz. Face. Body. His sexy-meter.
Tamara chuckled and set down her phone. Becky, the born romantic, saw most men as potential boyfriend material for her. Tamara had always thought it was silly.
At that moment, the door to the clubhouse opened and three men strode through the entrance. The leader of the trio definitely had alpha male qualities, especially with his towering height. He walked with a confident swag toward the hospitality desk. Tamara could see only his profile, but everything about him put her on alert. The other two men were decent enough, but paled in comparison with the leader. He turned to speak to the men and she got a good look at his face. He was most definitely her target, Grant Benson.
Tall. Dark. Hot sex on two legs.
Lethal combination.
She swallowed a mouthful of soda, set down the empty cup and readied herself for the approach.
Chapter 2
With check-in complete at the registration desk, Grant surveyed the clubhouse. Still no sign of Simmons, his problem employee, and no calls from him or Latrice, his executive assistant, to give him any updates. Hopefully, no tragedy had struck Simmons, and it was only that the guy was as immature as he seemed to be. One would think that an invitation to play golf with the CEO wouldn’t be treated as optional.
“We’ll get started in a few minutes. Go ahead and store your things.” Grant looked at his watch. “We’ve got a couple minutes.” He looked up to find a woman staring at him.
“May I help you?”
“Um...I wanted...you. Talk.” The woman hesitated but then focused on his face. “I would like to speak to you,” she continued. Her scrutiny of his face momentarily muted him. His thoughts darted about. He wondered if she was someone he had once known or just another of those nosy reporters who were always trying to get an interview. Otherwise, there was no reason for her to check him out in such an intense way.
Either way, he was intrigued by the bold approach. His mouth hitched on the side with a slight show of his amusement. She sure wasn’t hard on the eyes. Golf attire wasn’t exactly revealing and sexy, but the color scheme of her clothes was sophisticated. The cute bangs feathered along her forehead capped her oval face while the rest of her hair was pulled back. Her medium build set her at about his shoulder, while her overall frame was an hourglass shape—curvaceous and feminine.
“Really.” He muted his interest.
“Looks like you’re in need of one more.” She jutted her chin toward Hadfield and Norton, who were still browsing through the small gift shop area.
“Are you interested?”
“Yes, I’m interested. But before you think I’m a party crasher, I’m Tamara Wendell.”
“I’m Grant Benson.”
“I know.”
He felt a frown deepen on his face. He scaled back his charm and replaced it with deliberate frost.
“I need to talk to you.”
“Uh-huh.”
“Your people are giving me the runaround.” She moved her clubs closer to her body and struck a pose that was normal enough, except this beautiful woman standing in front of him defied normal.
“My people?”
“Your human resources department,” she replied with an accusatory note.
“I have confidence that they know what type of person I need for the company’s mission.” He assessed her body. He wouldn’t entertain any attempts to sway his authority over his HR department. No matter how pretty the reason.
“I’m sure they do. However, I didn’t even get a chance to tell them about my guys.”
“Your guys?” Now he couldn’t beat back the curiosity. She was way too young to have sons who were looking for work. Maybe she was an overprotective sister?
“I run the New Horizons Leadership Academy, which helps young men. I link them with companies that provide internship opportunities, in addition to teaching them other life skills.”
“Okay.” Grant remained wary, although the request sounded harmless.
“Your HR department blew me off. Yet, you are known for having a robust internship program.”
“Our interns work hard. It’s not a charity program.”
She visibly tightened under his crisp declaration. But he didn’t care about her challenges. It was her job to make him care, and fast.
“I’m not looking for charity,” she countered.
“This isn’t the place for this conversation.” He looked at his watch.
“You’re right. So why don’t we go play a round of golf? I’ll take the brown-haired one over there for my team. We’ll play, and if I get within a stroke of you, you will listen to me—with undivided attention.”
“You’re damned sure of yourself.”
“Every second of the day.” Again, she tilted that small chin with admirable determination.
He paused. Did his heart just hitch? Maybe it was that sexy scent that enveloped her like an intoxicating shield. Whatever it was, she had hit him like some sort of kryptonite, quietly and effectively crippling him.
He paused, took a breath and looked her right in the eyes.
“You’re on.”
Chapter 3
Whoever had invented the handshake to seal business transactions should be praised.
Tamara had shaken many hands as a business owner, but dare she say that this unique sensation was a first for her? When her hand touched Grant’s to seal their bet, there had
been an immediate response from her nervous system. How could a stranger’s touch elicit such strong energy? She couldn’t understand it, but she wasn’t complaining, either.
Because really, what could cause the shake-up that now made her feel like a high schooler with a crush? Maybe she should stop looking into those hooded, dark brown eyes that seemed to shutter emotions from the world. Maybe she should stop admiring the angular lines of his face that were anchored by his square jaw. Maybe her gaze shouldn’t hover and come to rest on his naturally pouty lips with a masculine wide flair. The man, physically, was the total package.
“Mrs. Wendell—”
“I’m just Miss. No mister in sight—not that I’m looking.” She hacked out a hoarse laugh. “And it’s Tamara. Friends call me Tammy or the Time Bomb. Well—” She quickly shut her mouth.
She felt herself blushing, and she couldn’t believe that she had told him that her nickname was the Time Bomb. Now he probably thought she was a bit nutty with major personality issues.
The two men who had walked in with Grant finally made their way over to where they stood.
“Tamara, this is Roy Hadfield. He is my computer design specialist. This is Deetz Norton, my graphic design specialist.”
“Nice to meet you.” Tamara shook their hands, not worried that she’d have the same reaction with the two younger men. And she certainly was not disappointed when her response at shaking their hands was like a flat line on an EKG machine.
“You’re joining us?” Hadfield asked. He looked over at his boss for confirmation. His clean-cut appearance and young face made him look vulnerable. Clearly, he cared what his boss thought, considering how carefully and measuredly he spoke.
“Yes. She’ll be playing with Norton.”
Norton looked as if he wanted to reject being her partner. Even though he didn’t say anything, he gave a slight shake of his head. A red blush suffused his cheeks, adding another layer of vivid color to his ruddy complexion and his bright red hair.
Passionate Game (Kimani Hotties) Page 2