Strictly Business (Mixing Business With Pleasure Series Book 1) Read online

  Dr. Brown’s needle pierced my numb skin and the room went quiet as he threaded five small blue knots.

  “All finished, Ms. Elliott. I look forward to seeing you in five to seven days to take them out. I must say it was a pleasure to meet you.”

  “Thank you, Dr. Brown.”

  “Of course. I’ve heard nothing but amazing things about you from Malik. I’ve asked him to set us up once or twice. I had quite the ulterior motive in coming down to see what I could do.”

  Is he really hitting on me?

  “That’s very thoughtful. Dr. Brown, you should join us for the grand opening of The Garden downtown, a week from Friday.”

  Is Laura seriously setting me up?

  I would have pummeled her, but she linked arms with him and walked out of the room.

  The white paper on the table crinkled when I laid back on the hospital bed. I pulled my knees into my chest and sighed; both the adrenaline and anesthesia were wearing off. I wanted the lightweight blue blanket Malik had wrapped around my shoulders to be the plush white comforter on my bed at home.

  I shifted, crinkling paper again, and stared at the ceiling. I started counting the dots speckled across the ceiling panels. The resident walked in when I’d reached 142 and told me I could fill out discharge papers.

  My limbs were working again but my brain was fuzzy enough to make my movements awkward as I dragged myself to the nurses’ station. I didn’t feel like dealing with Laura, Malik, Gemma, or anyone else for that matter. I thought I’d succeeded in avoiding them until the hallway opened up and those three—plus Dr. Brown and Leo—huddled like vultures around the desk.

  As soon as I shuffled up, words started spitting from every mouth. I stood there, wishing I could roll my eyes at the, “Kate should do this,” and, “Kate should do that.” I signed my papers and plopped into a wheelchair while they carried on. I tolerated their animated gestures and incessant squawking until my stomach churned.

  I wordlessly stood and walked toward the exit. Warm air enveloped my skin before the click-clack of heels caught up to me. Laura knew I wouldn’t wait for Vesper’s car service so she hailed a cab. She wore a giant puppy dog smile as she held the door for me. I smiled ever so slightly back and nodded. She shimmied in after me.

  It wasn’t until I sank into my dreamy down comforter at home that Laura picked back up our conversation.

  “What happened?” She asked softly.

  “Maybe I got hit harder than I thought. I remember answering you earlier.” I went to arch my eyebrow and yelped. The only thing that didn’t hurt was snuggling deeper into bed.

  “You know what I mean. We’ve been friends long enough that I know you don’t let your guard down. Literally or figuratively. Why did you drop your block?” Her fingers started a soothing path through my hair.

  “Oh.” I blew out a deep breath. “Kevin texted me today…”

  “So you took a punch?” Her eyebrows creased.

  “No. You should see what he sent me. I was having lunch when he started texting me dirty shit.”

  “What? Really?” She reached for my phone.

  “Yes, really. I thought about it all day.”

  She’d already pulled up Kevin’s messages. Her eyes grew wider as she read. She licked her lips as she got up to grab a glass of brandy from the decanter on my bedroom bar.

  “Grab me one of those?” I asked when she pulled her eyes from the screen to pour.

  “Should you mix alcohol with pain pills?”

  “Laura,” I warned.

  She made a face but grabbed a second highball. Her arm extended toward me, though off a few inches, as she finished reading Kevin’s texts. She set my BlackBerry down on the comforter with a puff.

  “I understand why you’d think about that throughout the day, but I don’t understand what was so special. I’ve seen much worse on that phone. What threw you off?”

  “Well, that’s only the first half. I dropped my block when I realized I’d been fantasizing Nicholas Bryant was the one who pinned me up against those windows.”

  “Oh.”

  She was quiet as she sipped her brandy and stared out of the warehouse style windows in my bedroom.

  “Again, I have to ask. So?”

  I sighed. My mind wandered over the time I told her I couldn’t hire her at Vesper. She wasn’t the right fit. It would have been a terrible decision for the company and our friendship. When I’d grown the balls to tell her, she’d shrugged it off and bought me a drink. In the end she was happier as a book editor anyway.

  Tell her the truth.

  “I’ve never felt like I did around him the other night. Ever. He made me feel alive. On fire. He made me blush, like, seventeen times. I’m not myself with him and it scares me. It pisses me off that he made me feel vulnerable. It pisses me off that I liked it.”

  The words kept tripping off my tongue. “Then I find out he may be my only hope for my tech device. He could be the answer to damn near everything, and I don’t want to ask him. I want him for myself, and I don’t even want to share with Vesper.”

  I punched the pillow by my face. “I know it was just moment, nothing really, and this is all just based on a feeling, but he seemed like he’d be worth all the finely packaged trouble.” I let my words hang in the silence between us.

  “He never called, you know?” I finished, sounding pitiful.

  “Did you expect him to?”

  “He doesn’t have my number, so not really. But he said he looked forward to next time. That he couldn’t wait. I guess I got my hopes up.”

  “Look, I don’t know what happened, and as much as I’d love to, I don’t need to. My only question is, do you think he’s worth something like that?” She pointed at my face.

  “Who knows? Seems like he made the decision for both of us.”

  Laura let out a deep breath and patted my shin. “I’ll lock up on the way out. Call me if you need anything.”

  I laid there after Laura left, not only thinking about the pain in my face, but the pain from realizing I was hung-up on a guy who wasn’t going to call.

  5.

  Ouch, Oh good God, ouch.

  I shook the covers away from my hand and tentatively reached toward my upturned cheek. My fingers skated across the puffy, swollen skin just enough to send a twinge of pain across my cheekbone. I whimpered and punched the pillow just inches from my nose.

  I rolled onto my back, noticing the sky was an unfamiliar gray through the window above my bed, a hue that signaled a fade from black in the early morning. It was also a shade that swirled in Nicholas Bryant’s eyes. When he slipped into my mind I pounded my fists into the mattress and the comforter poofed around me.

  Between the throbbing and Bryant I couldn’t have gone back to sleep if I wanted to. My frustration made me whirl out of bed and I got caught in a net of sheets. I stumbled and groaned in the dim lighting.

  I threw on tennis shoes and my biggest sunglasses. The morning was too dark for shades, but it was the only way I could begin to hide the purplish-green bruises. I took my BlackBerry and left my apartment in search of a little peace.

  Sharp, razor-like pains shot through my face in time with my steps. I wandered slowly, aimlessly with my face buried in my phone. Before too long I found myself weaving through Madison Square Park and past Shake Shack.

  Though it wasn’t particularly crowded, there were more people weaving throughout the park now and the sun was slowly illuminating the sidewalk. When I finally looked up from my BlackBerry I almost smacked into a brick wall of a man outlined by a perfectly tailored three-piece suit. When I shuffled around him, a firm hand reached out and stopped me. I froze and every muscle in my body tensed except for my heart, which thundered in my chest. I couldn’t fight back already being wounded.

  “Ms. Elliott, this is an unexpected surprise.”

  I closed my eyes and looked away from the voice. Turns out I would have recognized that honied purr from the depths of hell. I was still
frozen but no longer afraid.

  “I’ve thought of nothing but you since Monday,” Nicholas Bryant added.

  I hoped he would blame the slight morning breeze for my nipples pressing hard against my thin sweatshirt.

  “Mr. Bryant, I hardly believe that’s true. I haven’t heard from you in days.”

  A few paparazzi called out for a photo from behind me. I purposely kept my face angled away from both the lenses and Bryant’s beautiful face.

  “I could say the same about you. I was only one call away from you as well.”

  His voice was unapologetic and it made me dig my nails into my balled fists. I spun to face him. I leaned in closer and growled through gritted teeth.

  “I wasn’t the one who shoved his fingers in me then shoved me into a stupid limo without so much as a goodbye.”

  His whole face contorted; his eyes went flat gray when they met mine.

  “What the fuck happened to you?” He roared.

  I arched back from him like he’d slapped me. My brow tried to knit together but it was too painful. Where was this coming from? Was his reaction because I wasn’t the submissive woman flattened against the balcony?

  “Kate, I won’t ask again. What happened to your face, and what god-damned asshole did that to you?”

  Concern?

  He was concerned?

  Bryant yanked me into the lobby nearest to us for better light. His shoulders heaved and his eyes became more intense. I should have moved away from this intimidating man but my feet stayed rooted. He gently pulled the sunglasses off my face and his free hand reached to stroke my cheek. When I flinched his hand fell, deflated.

  “I was sparing with my trainer and missed a block. It was my fault. I stopped paying attention,” I said defensively.

  “Are you in pain?” He shifted to tender.

  “Not that I think you care, but yes, I am.”

  “What do you mean, not that I care?” He shot back.

  “Look, Bryant, it’s obvious I was just a good story or a game to play for the evening or whatever, which is fine, but I don’t need you to feign concern. Especially this early in the morning.”

  Ugh…mornings…

  “Don’t even pull that shit with me, Kate. And my name is Nicholas. I’m sorry I didn’t call. I had a lot on my plate this week.”

  His hand flew to his temple as he circled away from me. He almost seemed animalistic when he turned back around.

  “After I met you Monday, I couldn’t sleep. I’ve had endless fantasies about you. The feel of you, the taste of you, the look on your face. I can’t close my eyes without seeing you. Do you know what it’s like to get nothing done? To feel powerless?”

  His voice was gravelly with emotion as his volume rose. His eyes were doing that swirling thing again.

  “As a matter of fact, I do.” My words echoed off the marble wall of the lobby. “I’m incredibly sorry I’ve taken up so much of your precious time. Please feel free to continue with your morning, Bryant, and don’t waste another moment thinking about me.”

  I threw my hands up and moved faster than I had all morning, away from him and toward the door. One last time he grabbed my wrist to stop me.

  “Don’t yell at me like that ever again. I admit I haven’t done a great job showing it, but I do care for you. More than anticipated. The cuts and bruises on your face might as well be my own for how badly they bother me.” His voice softened; his grip not so much.

  I made a small sputtering sound. He reached for my other hand and turned me toward him. His gaze was so hungry that I flinched, sure he would mash his lips to mine. Instead, he pulled my hand down to his steely erection. The strong column twitched against my palm through the fine, soft fabric of his suit.

  “I’d give anything to kiss you now, but I refuse to hurt you further.” He stepped closer. “Please know that I’ve had that hard-on since I woke up dreaming of you. And it’s not the first time. I started to ache when I realized it was you walking up the street toward me.”

  His voice rumbled in his chest and I didn’t know what to make of it. Could he possibly share my inexplicable feelings? Regardless of my brain’s unanswered questions, my body bowed toward him. I had to make a conscious effort not to flex my fingers where he held them.

  I had to clear my throat before I could speak. “May I please have my glasses back?”

  “Of course.”

  He freed my hand and held the Chloe frames out limply. His face twisted, and I immediately backpedalled.

  “Thank you.” I softened and slowed my movements so as not to snatch the glasses away. “Look, Bryant, I’m sorry. I haven’t slept much, either. I woke up in pain and needed fresh air. I usually go for a run when I’m this restless, but it hurt too badly. I’m also not a morning person; I’m never good company at this ungodly hour.” I sighed and slid my glasses back on to hide.

  He nodded curtly but didn’t release my other hand; his grip tightened as he pulled me toward the door. I was so focused on the way my skin buzzed against his that I was surprised by flashbulbs outside.

  We had to elbow and shove through the photogs. Partway across the sidewalk Bryant turned long enough to pull me in close, press his lips to my ear, and beg me to get into his waiting car. I ducked in with him, not wanting to make more of a scene.

  “You can just spin around the block and drop me off.”

  I needed space from him as much as the paparazzi. There was a pulsing ache moving through my face.

  Among other body parts.

  “Nonsense. I’ll take you wherever you want to go.” He was staring out of the tinted windows.

  “Bryant, I’m not myself with you. I’m extra moody and unpredictable. My body…” I couldn’t even finish that sentence. “Look, I don’t mean to be rude, but I don’t trust myself around you. I feel like I’m out of control.”

  “I asked you to call me Nicholas.” There was a bite to his voice. “I am infatuated with you for many reasons, one of which is your unpredictability. So many women play a part around me and you don’t. I find it refreshing. I’m going to take you to your place or your office or wherever, whether you like it or not. Tell me where, or I’ll figure something out.”

  He arched an eyebrow, daring me to contradict again. I thought about it but kept my mouth shut.

  “I’m also going to give you my numbers. If you need anything, whatever it is, I’d be happy to get it for you. I find myself wanting nothing more than to care for you.”

  He sounded conflicted, almost irritated, as he took my BlackBerry and began furiously punching the keypad.

  “I guess I’ll head to work. But Nicholas…”

  He closed his eyes and shuddered. “Oh God, Kate, I love hearing my name cross those beautiful lips. I have to kiss you. I don’t want to hurt you, but I have to kiss you.” His eyes were that tormented swirl of blue and gray again, and his voice as desperate as my body.

  And that tone was what did me in. I wanted a reminder that Monday night was real. I bit my lip and nodded. He gently raised his hands to my face; I flinched then let him cradle my jaw in both big hands, barely letting his fingertips press against me.

  He softly pressed his lips to mine, holding a fairly chaste kiss for a city block. It wasn’t enough for my traitorous body. My lips moved against his, and I threaded my tongue in between his lips. He moaned but stayed still until I inched closer. My movement caused his fingers to flex the tiniest bit and catch the worst of my bruise. I almost crashed back into the car door as I yelped and clasped my hands protectively over my cheekbone.

  “Kate, I’m so sorry. I told you, I can’t control myself with you.”

  He was trying to stay calm but his eyes were tumultuous. He reached for my hand, which I tentatively let him take. He pressed an ardent kiss to the inside of my palm before retuning his eyes to mine. My breath caught when I saw them again.

  “Mr. Bryant, Vesper Fitness.” The driver’s voice rolled from the front seat.

  “Thank y
ou, Jaime.”

  Nicholas’ gaze hadn’t left mine, and he searched my face for what seemed like forever. So many times his mouth moved to form some sort of sentence. At the last moment his eyes went flat.

  “Ms. Elliott, it was a pleasure seeing you again. I hope your face heals quickly. All the best.”

  His tone was as expressionless as his eyes. I couldn’t even begin to guess what caused him to flip but I knew a brush off when I heard one.

  “Thanks for the ride,” I mumbled as I forced the door open before his driver could grab it for me.

  I couldn’t help but hang my head as I walked toward the revolving door. Exhaustion crept in and wrapped itself around my bones. It wasn’t just my face that ached. Tears were welling in my eyes—well, my good eye—and my whole chest constricted with a silent sob. My hand was resting on the door but I couldn’t push it open.

  Fuck it.

  I turned on my heel and started back toward my apartment. I ignored the jarring pain and the idling black Bentley. My heart hammered the whole walk back. I tried to stop and take deep breaths but nothing helped.

  Once I was back inside my apartment, something seemed out of place. I took inventory from the doorframe; my black and white Ikat rug rested perfectly on the dark herringbone wood floor. The mirrored credenza sat in the entry hall, and the greyscale wicker balls were artfully placed inside the gold lacquered glass bowl that rested there. Despite the perfectly arranged items something was still off. The longer I studied the more obvious it became—I felt out of place.

  Damnit Bryant!

  I stomped into the kitchen, snatched an ice pack, and shuffled up the stairs to flop back into bed. The ice didn’t do anything to ease the pain. Emotion rose in my chest and pooled in my throat. I balled my fists, pounding them repeatedly at my sides like a small child. I desperately wanted to convince myself that the melting ice was responsible for the tracks of water running down my cheeks.

  6.

  A harsh and gravelly, “Whaaaat” and “Okaaaaay,” blared from the sound system in the living room, waking me. The bass was loud enough to rattle the bed as I pried my groggy eyes open. There was only one person I knew who listened to rap while she cooked. Or rap period. And she was the only person with a spare key.