That Man 3 (19 page)

A short fifteen minutes later, I was in my condo. I took a hot shower and jerked myself
off. There was only one girl I belonged with. The one I couldn’t have. Jennifer McCoy.

*

Thursday was more for the same. There was no hope for Jennifer and me. Until I got
a phone call at the end of the day from my grandma.

“Blakela, I ran into that girlfriend of yours yesterday. She told me she’s
meshuganah
about you.”

“She did?”

“
Vould
I ever kid you?”

No. My crazy, over-sexed eighty-five-year-old grandma was a straight shooter.

“Finally, you’ve given me something to live for,” she moaned.

And vice versa. Telling Grandma I loved her, I hung up the phone. For the first time
in almost a week, a glimmer of hope lit up my heart. And my cock twitched.

Jennifer

T
he conference room mirrored the rest of SIN-TV. Sleek with lots of polished metal
and black leather. Framed posters of current series hung on the wall along with the
motto of SIN-TV created by Jaime Zander’s ad agency, ZAP! “Television so hot, your
screen will sizzle.” And of course, a huge plasma screen was embedded into the front
wall.

I hobbled into the room. Blake was already there, seated at the head of the large
conference room table. His presence sent a shudder flying through me. Hibernating
in my office over the past few days, I’d hardly seen him. Most of our communication
was via e-mail. This morning, I had sent him my presentation to review and he’d approved
it. The photo of him and Kitty kissing had set me back emotionally. I could hardly
look him in the eyes. I hadn’t expected it to cause me so much pain.

Despite the fact it was casual Friday, he was wearing one of his elegant, tapered,
custom-tailored dark suits with a white dress shirt and a sharp looking tie. It had
an unexpected, unnerving effect on me. He also looked rested and had shaved. His hair
was back to having that groomed, just-fucked look. My stomach churned. Of course,
he had fucked Kitty. And that was probably just for starters. Every nerve in my body
sizzled.

His piercing blue eyes met mine, and I knew he knew he was affecting me. He flashed
a smile. Why was he acting like nothing had happened between us? Why was he taunting
me? I was an ice cube on fire.

“Sit next to me, please.” His voice was authorative yet seductive.

Pointing a forefinger, he indicated for me to take the seat just to the right of him.
As much as I didn’t want to sit anywhere near him, he was still my boss and I had
no choice. Taking a much needed calming breath, I lowered myself to the chair and
set my crutches next to me against the table. Blake rose, gathered my crutches, and
then strutted across the room where he placed them in the far right corner. He returned
to his seat, the heat of his body radiating and inciting me.

Seeking a distraction, I eyed my laptop sitting in the middle of the table. With the
help of Mrs. Cho and our tech team, I’d set it up earlier in the afternoon to hook
up with the big screen TV. Using a remote, I’d be able to project my PowerPoint onto
the large screen. I turned to face Blake.

“Are you sure you want
me
to do the presentation?” My unsteady voice underscored my insecurity. This was my
first big presentation and I… we… had a lot riding on the line.

Blake didn’t flinch. His hypnotic blue eyes met mine.
Get them off me!

“Yes. This is your baby. Your pitch. No one can sell your idea better than you. Remember
the three cherries… line them up.”

The right idea. The right time. The right person. Blake’s Vegas lesson—his father’s
credo. I had two out of the three cherries in place. The right idea and right time.
I just needed to win Gloria over. A pang of sadness stabbed me. When it came to Blake
and my own personal life, nothing was lined up. Everything was shattered. I fought
hard to put what had happened between us to the back of my mind, afraid that tears
might erupt. It wasn’t easy.

On time, at exactly four o’clock, Gloria sauntered into the room with a stylishly
dressed, spiky-haired man who appeared to be the same age. Thirty something.

Gloria was even more stunning in person than in the photos I’d seen both online and
at her house. Tall and statuesque, she was wearing a black and white Chanel (so I
thought) tweed suit with gobs of pearls swathed around her neck. Bright red lipstick
stood out against her porcelain skin, and her mane of hair, pure platinum, cascaded
in a loose thick braid over her shoulders. It reached past her waist. She was in a
word—intimidating. A magnificent powerhouse of a woman.

Her companion, blatantly gay, eased my angst. Dressed in tight leather pants, a vintage
cardigan, a bow tie, and red high-tops, he smiled warmly at me. He reminded me a lot
of Libby’s brother, Chaz.

Gloria’s eyes, one remarkably blue, the other brown, darted to the corner of the room
where my crutches were stacked. Her eyes shifted back to me. I had no idea if she
knew what had transpired at her beach house. I wondered—had Blake told his best friend
Jaime?

Before I could push myself away from the polished steel table to stand up, she came
by to shake my hand and introduced her companion, Kevin Riley, her partner and head
of marketing and public relations. Her voice was commanding but warm. I instantly
liked her.

“Where’s Jaime?” asked Blake as she and Kevin took seats at the table across from
me. I caught sight of her magnificent wedding ring with its entwined heart-shaped
diamonds while she responded.

“He’s still in Japan. A crisis with a client.”

Blake rolled his eyes at her. “Oh, so he put his other client’s needs before yours?”
Blake had told me before the meeting that her husband’s advertising agency ZAP! handled
Gloria’s Secret’s media buys.

“Yes.” A sexy smile snaked across her face. “He’ll pay.”

“Oh will he,” chimed in Kevin.

Gloria shot Kevin a wry look and then turned her attention to me. “Thank you for the
lovely picture frame, Jennifer. I’ve already put a family photo in it and set it on
the piano.”

I was surprised but relieved she got it so quickly. “You’re welcome,” I stammered,
trying hard to quell both the scrumptious and turbulent memories of the weekend at
her house.

“Why don’t we get straight into the pitch,” said Blake, his words rushed. There was
no doubt in my mind—he needed to move on as much as I did. My chest tightened. Blake
turned my way and handed me the remote. “Jennifer…” His voice trailed off.

Taking a deep breath, I clicked the remote and initiated the PowerPoint. Slide after
slide spoke to the power of the erotic romance books I wanted to turn into
telenovelas
and to the research that supported my block of SIN-TV daytime programming.

I managed to steal a few glances at Gloria during my presentation. She sat at the
conference room table poker-faced, her hands, with their perfectly manicured crimson
nails, folded stoically in front of her, her intense eyes glued to the big screen
TV. I also glanced occasionally at Blake. He was intermittently nodding with approval
and monitoring Gloria’s reaction to the presentation. Battling my nerves, I pushed
myself forward until I came to the end of the presentation—a video clip featuring
some testimonials from the focus groups. “A picture is worth a thousand words,” my
father, the wordsmith, ironically preached. I wrapped things up.

“So based on the popularity of these books and our research findings, I believe there
is a huge market for erotic programming targeted at women. I’m tentatively calling
the block, “My SIN-TV.”
Done.
With an inner sigh of relief, I turned my computer off and anxiously awaited a response
from Gloria or Kevin.

Silence. Gloria pursed her full, red-lacquered lips and then turned to her companion.
“Kev, what do you think?”

I held my breath.

“I think Jennifer’s idea is fan-fucking-tastic.”

Gloria nodded, a smile widening on her lips. “I do too. I love all these books and
so do Gloria’s Secret customers. I think this a perfect match. I’d like to sponsor
the entire block in exchange for product placement.”

In shock, I shot Blake a glance. His eyes sparkled and a dazzling smile exploded across
his face.

Gloria continued. “Jennifer, have you thought of an online component?”

“Not yet,” I stuttered, trying to maintain my composure. Holy shit! Gloria Zander,
the head of Gloria’s Secret, the world largest retailer of women’s lingerie, had just
bought into my programming block. Thank goodness, I couldn’t walk because I would
have jumped up and done a happy dance.

Blake, to my surprise, said nothing until Gloria spoke to him directly.

“Blake, what I’d like to propose is that we do an online joint venture. We replay
the episodes of the
telenovelas
on our website and offer women a point and click opportunity to buy all the Gloria’s
Secret products featured. We’ll split the profits. It’ll be a win-win for both of
us.”

Kevin fanned himself. “Oh, Glorious, that’s frickin’ brilliant.”

Blake nodded. “I agree. That’s a great idea.”

Wasting no time, Gloria rose from her chair and collected her monstrous Chanel handbag.
Kevin followed suit.

“Blake, please have your business people call mine. I want to put this on the fast
track.”

“Will do,” he said brightly as Gloria and Kevin came around the table to shake our
hands. The deal was sealed.

Gloria’s duo-colored eyes met mine. Rather than intimidating me as they did when she
first arrived, they twinkled with warmth. She smiled.

“Oh, I almost forgot.” She sunk her hand into her purse in search of something. She
pulled it out.

My heart skipped a beat. Dangling from Gloria’s palm was Blake’s beautiful necklace
with the pink tourmaline heart that I thought I’d lost.

“I found this at the beach house. It’s not mine so I thought it might be yours, Jennifer.”

“N-no, it’s not mine,” I spluttered, tears clustering in the back of my eyes.

“It belongs to me,” Blake said coldly. He snatched the necklace from Gloria and placed
it into the breast pocket of his jacket.

Gloria zipped up her bag. “Jennifer, you and Blake make a great team. Make it work.
He needs you.”

With a wink, she and Kevin disappeared.

While I’d won Gloria over big time, my victory was fleeting. My high had given way
to anxiety. Being alone with Blake knotted up my stomach and had my heart flailing.
Filled with the desperate need to get away from him, I pushed myself away from the
table.

“Don’t leave.” His voice was a stern command.

I froze.

“We need to talk.”

“About the presentation?”

“No. About us.”

Every muscle in my body tightened. “There’s nothing to talk about.”

“Don’t shut me out, Jen.”

I held back tears. The door to my heart was locked. And it was going to stay that
way for a long time. I’d had enough heartbreak in a month to last me a lifetime.

“Would you please hand me my crutches?” My voice was shaky.

“You’re not going anywhere until we talk.”

“Please,” I begged.

“If you don’t open up, I’m going to fuck you right here on this table.”

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me right.”

I trembled at the thought. “My crutches, please.” My voice grew more desperate. I
had to get away from him.

“Talk to me, Jennifer.”

“It’s Ms. McCoy. And if you’re not going to get them for me, I’ll just get them myself.”

“Wait—”

There was no waiting. I pushed myself away from the table again and stood up. Hopping
on one foot, I headed toward the corner where my crutches were stacked. Blake trailed
behind me.

“Damn it, Jen. Let me in.”

Oh, so now he was quoting lines from the movie
Frozen.
“Get away from me,” I pleaded and hopped faster. Tears were now falling from my eyes.
I was worn out and blinded. Halfway across the room, I lost my balance and stumbled.
Fuck. I was going to fall flat on my face. In the nick of time, Blake clenched my
waist, preventing me from taking an embarrassing and potentially painful spill.

“Hold on to me and I’ll help you get your crutches.” The tone of his voice was soft
and repentant.

Reluctantly, I wrapped an arm around his broad shoulder for support and hopped over
to my crutches, his hard body grazing mine. A chill followed by unwanted heat wound
through me.

As I fixed my crutches under my arms, he cornered me, bracing his palms against the
walls. He leaned in close to me, holding me prisoner. I could hear his heart drumming
with mine and feel the heat of him.

“Jen, I’m sorry for what I did. I feel like an asshole.”

I huffed tearfully. “You
are
an asshole. A fucking asshole.”

He bowed his head. “I know.”

“Now, please let me go.” My tone was more weary than harsh.