Corporate Seduction (6 page)

She should have known that while Grammy was known to forget to wear panties she would remember meeting Khalil Franklin, only because her granddaughter wished to forget him.

“He’s not a friend, he’s a co-worker,” Reka supplied, praying she wouldn’t have to go any further, but soon realizing her prayers were rarely answered.

“They went on a date last night and then came back here for a nightcap.” Grammy was going through her purse, in search of what, nobody knew for sure since she never seemed to find it.

“We did not go on a date,” Reka said adamantly, then threw her hands in the air in defeat. Grammy was going to say and think exactly what Grammy wanted, and nothing Reka said was going to change that.

Janell fell on the bed beside her daughter. “You seein’ somebody new? He works with you, huh? Well, you know, working with somebody
and
sleeping with him can be a pretty dangerous game.” Janell put a hand to her neck. “I remember this guy, Todd. We worked together at J.C. Penney years ago. He had the biggest hands and man, oh man,” Janell shivered, “in that storeroom after hours, he sure knew what to do with them.”

“Mama,” Reka scolded. She was used to Janell’s graphic depiction of her relations with men, but she didn’t think it was appropriate in front of her grandmother. Janell, however, didn’t seem to care.

“But there was this other chick, Nellie. She worked in men’s shoes, and she thought she was ‘it,’ so as soon as she found out about me and Todd, she started blabbing. Then my supervisor started questioning why I always wanted to work the closing shift. And wouldn’t you know it, one day when me and Todd was in that storeroom—and I mean Todd was hittin’ it somethin’ good—that old battleaxe came waltzing in, screaming and bustling about like she was about to have a damned heart attack, and both of us got fired.” Janell’s head was tilted back as she reminisced.

Grammy tsked and shook her head, her big sponge roller curls bobbing at her ears. “If I told you once, I know I’ve told you a thousand times, if a man can’t afford to take you to a moe-tel, he ain’t worth the time it’ll take you to open your legs.”

Reka dropped an arm over her eyes. Her family was nuts. No wonder she didn’t have any luck with men. She sat up. “Look, Khalil is just a co-worker. We’re working on a project together. That’s all,” she said emphatically. So emphatically that two pair of eyes widened and searched her face intently.

The telephone rang. The two older women didn’t move, just kept looking at Reka as if she were about to reveal the secret to nuclear fusion. Muttering a few choice words, wisely under her breath, Reka scooted off the bed and picked the phone up from the nightstand. “Hello?”

“Hello, Reka. I was just thinking about you and wondering if you were getting ready for our date.”

We don’t have a date
, her mind screamed. But to do so verbally would most certainly amuse the two instigators in the room, who no doubt had their ears perked up. How was she going to convince them that Khalil was just a friend if he insisted on this so-called date? She gripped the phone tightly. “I just got out of the tub, and I’m trying to take a nap. Tacoma and I were out all morning.”

Khalil tried not to feel the slight edge of jealousy—she’d spent all morning with Tacoma, while he’d spent all morning thinking of her. “Well, I said seven, and you have another hour, so go ahead and lie down for a bit.” He paused, trying like hell not to say he was on his way. “But I’ll be there promptly at seven.” He knew she’d try to give him another excuse, so he hung up before she had a chance.

Setting the phone down in its cradle, he figured that was two things he’d catch hell for tonight. Closing his eyes, he let the sound of her voice replay in his mind. It wasn’t so much what she said as the way she said it, with determination and attitude. He smiled. Man, he really liked her style. Her candor and her stubborness. Well, he could forego the stubborn streak, but then that would be changing a part of her. And there was nothing about Reka that he felt needed changing.

He took that back. Her ideas about men needed changing, and he was just the man to make that happen.

* * *

Reka slammed the phone down. He had a lot of nerve telling her what she was going to do and how long she had to do it. She was about to release a few choice expletives when she turned and bumped right into Grammy.

“Was that him? Was that Mr. Handsome?”

Reka rolled her eyes. Her choices for this Saturday evening were to stay in this apartment with the two love connectors picking at her to find out about her relationship with a man she didn’t have a relationship with, or go to dinner with a man she wasn’t quite sure she could trust.

“Hmph, he must be a doozy if he’s got you all worked up with a simple phone call,” Janell added, standing to touch Reka’s cheek. “Look, Grammy, she’s blushing.”

“I am not!” Reka pulled away from them, going to the side of the bed to pick up the bags from today’s shopping spree as a diversion. “I told you he was just a co-worker.”

“Mm-hmm.” Janell folded her arms over her chest and continued to stare.

Reka dumped the contents of the bags onto the bed and gasped when the silky black material slid out. With two fingers, as if it were a piece of burning wood, she lifted the dress.

“Hot damn! Old co-worker’s gonna score tonight!” Janell whooped.

“I know that’s right,” Grammy added with her own denture-filled grin.

Reka groaned again. “I’m going to kill Tacoma!”

At seven o’clock on the dot, Khalil raised his hand and knocked on Reka’s door. Within seconds it swung open, and a slim, hippy woman smiled up at him from the other side.

“You must be the co-worker, Mr. Handsome.”

She extended her hand, lifting it palm downward to signal him to kiss it. Khalil chuckled a bit to himself, took the offered hand and performed the desired deed. “I’m Khalil Franklin. And you are?”

Amazed and impressed, Janell lowered her hand slowly to her side. “I’m Janell Boyd, Reka’s mother.”

Damn, Khalil thought to himself, if all mothers looked like this, young boys would have a hell of a time deciding which woman to date. Luckily for him, his interest had already been piqued and, even though Janell had a pretty tight body and didn’t look a day over thirty-five with her stylish hair and impeccably made-up face, there was only one woman for him.

Entering the familiar living room he spotted Grammy and went to the sofa to give her a hug. “Hi, Grammy. It’s good to see you again.” He liked the older woman, but wondered why she hadn’t returned to the retirement home.

Grammy embraced the young man, enjoying the sexy smell of his cologne. “Hey, handsome, you smell good tonight. Where are you taking my grandbaby? You’re all dressed up, too. That’s a fine suit you got on.” Grammy surveyed him.

Khalil felt a bit uncomfortable as Janell closed the door and began to examine him. He was being appraised, and he wondered if their approval would work to his favor with Reka. He smoothed down his tie and smiled lightly. “I’ve made reservations at Roth’s.”

Janell whistled. “That’s a pretty nice spot. I’ve been there once. Reka likes steak, good choice.” She winked at Khalil before taking a seat at the other end of the couch.

“Have a seat, handsome, and tell us about yourself while you wait for my grandbaby.” Grammy motioned to the single chair that matched the couch.

Khalil did as he was told, faintly amused by these two women. He could see where Reka got her build and her catlike eyes. A pair exactly like hers was staring him down something terrible right this moment. He wasn’t nervous, though, didn’t feel an ounce of wariness. These women looked at him appreciatively, and he was used to that from women, almost expected it half the time. Yet when he’d met Reka, her look had been something totally different. “What do you want to know?” he asked, letting his palms fall flat on his thighs.

“Where do you live?” Janell asked first.

“I have a condo at The Zachary.”

“That’s not far from here,” Janell noted.

“No ma’am, it’s not.”

“How old are you?” Grammy queried.

“I just turned thirty-five.”

“Mmmm, an older man. You know Reka’s only twenty-eight. Does the age difference bother you?”

He thought for a moment; he hadn’t really considered it except for the comments Reka had made the night before. “No, I don’t think the age difference is a problem.”

“Uh huh, so what are your intentions towards my daughter?”

Reka cleared her throat even as her pumps clicked across the floor. She should have known not to leave him too long with them. “Dinner is the intention,” she said to Janell. Then turning to Khalil, she said, enunciating very carefully, “And that’s it.”

Khalil stood, her words falling on deaf ears as his eyes lingered over her body. The black dress she wore hugged all the right places, emphasizing all the pleasurable spots and leaving her arms and neck bare so that her smooth skin tantalized him even more. The auburn curls that had been swept up the night before now hung down past her shoulders, held back at both sides with diamondlike pins that made her eyes sparkle even more. She wore light makeup, a silver dusting over her eyes, an almond glaze on her lips. Her legs were clad in sheer black nylon, and the straps of come-and-get-me pumps twined around her small ankles.

He swallowed—hard—tried to find his voice and took a step towards her. “You are stunning.” That was an understatement but the curve of her lips, the twinkle in those once leery eyes, said it was just enough.

Beneath his intense gaze Reka felt her heart thud a rhythm that sounded strangely like the Ludacris song that had just been playing on the radio in her room. She’d taken a good look at him as he stood statue still in front of her. The black suit, crisp white shirt and ice blue tie looked almost regal on him. His shoulders seemed broader, if that were possible, since yesterday, his thighs, thick and muscled. Usually a beard and mustache thoroughly turned her off, but Khalil’s was neat, thin and a bit sexier than she was ready to admit.

“Thank you,” she said without the terseness she’d intended. “I’ll get my coat and we can leave.”

She moved to the closet with Khalil admiring the way the thin fabric of her dress molded over her backside, wishing he were the dark material himself.

“Dessert comes after the main course,” Janell muttered from behind.

He’d forgotten the other two women in the room, so she startled him a bit, though he didn’t show it. “It was very nice meeting you, Mrs. Boyd,” he said as he turned to face the two women—the Mod Squad, he’d dubbed them. “Take care, Grammy.” He nodded, then moved to the closet, taking Reka’s coat from her hands and holding it while she slipped her arms inside.

Reka tried to squelch the fuzzy sensation rippling through her. He was a gentleman, she’d already given him that much, so his actions should not keep inciting school-girl feelings.

They left the apartment without another word, walked down the steps and out into the chilly night air, still in silence.

“Should we hail a cab?” she asked when they both stopped at the bottom of the stoop.

Khalil had been focused on the intense heat between them as they walked so closely together, so her words startled him for a second. “No, I drove my car this time.” With a hand to the small of her back he led her to the curb.

Reka didn’t whistle, as she normally would have, nor did she seem overly impressed with the shiny silver Jaguar parked in front of her building. But truth be told, she was bowled over by the luxurious car and was positive it had been paid for with honest money. So as she slipped into the leather passenger seat, her heart didn’t thump with the fear of being arrested. Instead it beat steadily with excitement about what tonight might bring.

Khalil closed the door when she’d settled in the seat and fastened her seatbelt. He walked around the car with extra pep in his step, opened the driver’s side door, and climbed in. Sensing she was still a little uncomfortable, he took her hand, rubbing his thumbs over the smooth skin. “Just relax, Reka. I promise you a wonderful evening.”

In the darkness of the car, his eyes seemed more the color of coal, yet they caressed her with a warmth she’d never felt before. In that moment she could swear that all her reservations about trusting this man were bogus. More than anything she wanted to believe in him, believe that he really wanted to be with her, that he was really attracted to her and for tonight—just for tonight, she promised herself—she would allow herself to trust and to accept.

She offered him a smile. “If you promise it will be wonderful, then I’m sure it will be.”

* * *

A half hour later they were seated in leather-skirted chairs, perusing the menu while a jazz trio serenaded the room. Reka was suddenly glad she’d worn the new black dress, even more grateful that Tacoma had had the foresight to purchase it. When she got home, she’d call to thank him, even though she wouldn’t hear the end of his ‘I told you so’s. Not only was she appropriately dressed for the elegant yet casual restaurant, but Khalil couldn’t stop staring at her. She knew she looked good. She purchased clothes that would accent the attributes she was blessed with, whether it was hipster jeans, corporate suits or this dress. If it didn’t enhance something, she left it in the store. It was as simple as that. The dress and her heels made her appear taller, giving her legs length and grace. The deep plunge in front offered a tantalizing view of her cleavage without giving away all the goodies, and it didn’t hug her butt to the point of showing a panty line. It gently covered her most prized possession. Yes, she was extremely thankful to Tacoma and to the maker of this little black number. Even if it were only for one night, like Cinderella, she planned to enjoy every minute of it.

They ordered and spent the first few minutes thoroughly enjoying their meal. Reka was sure she’d never before tasted steak so tender, so flavorful. Khalil was positive he enjoyed this meal that he’d ordered so many times much more tonight because of the woman sitting across from him.

She was lively, talking about everything from the décor to the music the strolling trio played. She professed to liking jazz, although R&B was her first love. He’d even enjoyed her impromptu rendition of Anita Baker’s “Giving You the Best that I’ve Got.” Surprisingly, she had a really nice voice, even though she swore she hadn’t had any lessons and had never fancied a singing career. Now she was chewing slowly, as if she were savoring every morsel. Her eyes wandered the room in a cursory fashion, and when she caught him staring, she smiled, letting him know she, too, was happy they were here together. Still, his need to know everything about her was not satisfied, and he pushed further. “So tell me all about Reka. I know that she likes to sing, even though she won’t admit it, but I want to know more.”

Reka put her fork down, took a sip of the red wine he’d ordered for them and found that she actually liked it. “I’m not sure what you want to know exactly. My life’s pretty cut and dried.”

“Then how about I ask questions and you supply answers?” he offered.

Whether it was the wine or the ambiance or simply being with him, Reka felt agreeable. “Shoot.”

“Are you part Native American?” That was his first question, because he knew it wasn’t what she expected. She expected him to ask about her past relationships, about why she was so angry towards men, and he did want to know all that, but not just yet.

“What?” Tilting her head to the side she stared at him. “Why would you ask me that?”

Khalil simply smiled, enjoying the surprise in her voice. “Your skin, it’s an unusual shade. You have sort of a burnt orange tint, like Native Americans.”

“Hmph. I never thought of that.” And she truly hadn’t. Her mother and Grammy had the same coloring, so she figured she’d inherited it from them. She thought for a moment. “You know, I once heard Grammy mention Indian heritage when she was talking about her parents, but I didn’t ask any questions.”

“You should, it’s important to know your heritage. That way you can pass it on to your children.”

“I guess you’re right. I’ll have to look into that. Next question.”

“Do you want children? I mean, someday, do you want to have a family of your own?” He did. He’d wanted it so badly he’d asked Sonya to marry him even though he’d felt no love for her.

“I think I’d like to have a baby or two sometime in the future. I don’t really think about it that much, though.”

His brow furred. “Why not?”

“Because you have to have a man to think about having kids, and as I told you yesterday, I don’t have a man.”

“That’s purely by choice, I’m sure.”

Reka gave a wry grin. “More by necessity.”

“Necessity?”

“Yes, my need to remain sane. Men drive you crazy.”

With another question he could have her tell him about her past relationships, about what had gone so wrong that she’d sworn off men, but at that moment he really didn’t care what mistakes the other men in her life had made. He only wanted to make things better. “I wouldn’t drive you crazy, Reka.”

She paused, took a drink of wine. “What would you do, Khalil? If I were your woman, how would you treat me?”

He finally pinpointed what he liked most about her—it was her candor. Most women would have smiled, cooed at him, told him they knew he wasn’t like their past mates and so on and so forth, yet she hadn’t done that. She wanted to know how he was different, how he would measure up to the men in her past and he admired her for skipping all the bull and getting to the point.

“I’d treat you like a woman is supposed to be treated. I’d cherish you, listen to you, do everything in my power to please you. I’d treat you the way you deserve.”

Was it suddenly very hot in here? Or had she drunk too much wine? His words sounded too good to be true. He was too good to be true. He was polished and debonair, looking as if he ate at this type of restaurant at least two or three times a week, while she was struggling to keep that napkin on her lap and the burp in her throat at bay. “If you don’t mind, there are a few things about you I’d like to know.”

For the second time tonight he realized he’d shocked her. Good, maybe with enough shock she’d realize he was sincere. “Ask me whatever you’d like.”

“Where did you go to school?”

“I was raised in Greenwich, Connecticut. I attended private schools there until I went to college. NYU was my choice. That’s where I met Keith.”

“Oh, you know the judge?” Cienna hadn’t told her that.

“Yes, we met in college and have been close ever since. We play ball every weekend. He’s a great guy with a wonderful family.”

“So that’s how you got the IT job?”

Khalil shrugged. “Keith said they were having some computer problems. I volunteered to help.”

Reka nodded. “So your parents still live in Connecticut?”

“Yes, our family home is still in Greenwich.”

“And you’re an only child?”

“I have a younger sister, Danielle. She’s been married for four years and has a three-year-old son, Delano.”

“Does she work?” For some reason Khalil seemed to be from the type of people that didn’t allow their women folk to have jobs of their own.

“Danielle’s a CPA. She works at my father’s company.”

Bingo. “Your father has his own company?”

Khalil could see where she was going with this line of questioning and didn’t like it, but he’d said she could ask, so he answered. “My family owns a reputable investment brokerage. It’s been passed down from son to son for the last four generations.”

“But you’re in computers. How does that relate to investments?”