Читать книгу Seduced by the CEO - Pamela Yaye - Страница 9

Chapter 1

Famed restaurateur, Nicco Morretti, watched celebrity party planner Claudia Jefferies-Medina sail through the doors of Javalicious and noted that as usual, she was right on time. Smiling broadly, he stood and pulled out a chair for her at their table. Celebrating the grand reopening of his restaurant lounge, Dolce Vita, last night left Nicco feeling sluggish. But he quickly shook off his fatigue and smiled. “Good morning, Claudia.”

“It’s great to see you again.” Kissing him on both cheeks, Claudia greeted him as if they’d known each other all of their lives rather than just a month.

“Thanks for agreeing to meet me on such short notice. I really appreciate it.”

“No problem,” Claudia said as she sat down, took off her white blazer and draped it behind her chair. “I was already in town on business, so squeezing you in this morning was a cinch.”

“I ordered you a cappuccino when the waiter came by earlier. I hope that’s okay.”

“You remembered what kind of coffee I like,” she said, touching a hand to her chest. “Thank you, Nicco. That was very thoughtful of you.”

The waiter arrived, tray in hand, and placed two steaming mugs on the round wooden table. “Would you like to order something from the breakfast menu?”

“Nothing for me,” Nicco said, reaching for his coffee mug. “I’m good.”

While Claudia chatted with the waiter about the morning specials, Nicco studied the thin, long-haired women seated beside the front window. They grinned lasciviously, and he did, too, making a mental note to introduce himself to the blond babes after his meeting with Claudia ended. He glanced around the sparsely decorated café, surprised to see that it was filled to capacity. The quaint coffee shop attracted locals and tourists alike, and although it was only nine o’clock in the morning, a steady stream of casually dressed people shuffled through the open door. The scent of sea water mingled with the aromas wafting around the café, and the sound of squawking birds and laughter filled the air.

“Have you had a chance to review the notes I sent you last week?”

Nicco wanted to laugh, but didn’t. Claudia sat on the edge of her seat, her eyes bright and her excitement sky high. “I think my mom will get a kick out of the live band, and the vintage photo booth, but the rest of the report didn’t wow me.”

Claudia frowned as if confused by his words, but she didn’t speak.

“The party’s too small, too low-key. It needs to be grand, flashy and over-the-top.”

“Nicco, it doesn’t get much bigger than the grand ballroom at the Biltmore Hotel,” she said, sounding as animated as a high school cheerleader. “I’ve done several events at the Biltmore, and they outdo themselves every single time. If you’d like, I could email you some pictures of the pre-Grammy party I did back in January.”

Nicco shook his head. “That won’t be necessary.”

“Are you sure? I think if you saw some pictures you’d feel differently about us booking the Biltmore. It’s a gorgeous hotel rich in history and culture, and one of my personal favorites.”

“I’m just not feeling it, Claudia, so please keep searching for another venue.” His mind was made up. Nicco tasted his coffee, and leaned back comfortably in his chair. He loved the Biltmore Hotel, and thought the food and service was outstanding. But he didn’t want to have his parents’ anniversary party in a hotel where he’d had numerous sexual liaisons. But he couldn’t tell Claudia that, not without looking like a sleaze ball. He wanted the celebrity party planner to think he was a mature, upstanding guy. So, spilling the beans about his past escapades at the historic hotel was definitely out of the question. “My parents worked hard to give me and my brothers a great life in this country, and I want to throw them the most expensive, outrageous anniversary bash Miami has ever seen!”

Claudia was silent for a moment. “What about a mega yacht?”

“Will three hundred people fit comfortably inside?”

“When did the guest list balloon to three hundred people?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Once word got out that my parents were celebrating their twenty-fifth wedding anniversary, our relatives in Venice and Florence insisted on making the trip to Miami.”

“The more the merrier, right?”

“That’s the Morretti way!”

“Trust me, it’s the Mexican way, too. A small family dinner at my in-laws’ place usually involves hundreds of people, and more food and alcohol than a Carnival Cruise ship!” Claudia laughed out loud, but quickly sobered and continued her spiel. “A mega yacht can comfortably hold up to five hundred people, and has everything you can think of—lavish staterooms, a lounge, a formal dining room, a pool and even a personal theater. You name it, the yacht’s got it.”

“Interesting,” Nicco said, stroking the length of his jaw. “That could work.”

“I’ll look into it and get back to you once I find out more information. Can I get your assistant’s new number?” she asked, her pen poised to write. “I rang her yesterday to confirm our meeting this morning, but her cell phone has been disconnected.”

“Gracie no longer works for Morretti Inc.”

“That’s too bad. I really liked Ms. O’Connor. Have you found a replacement yet?”

“No, but my HR director is in the process of interviewing suitable candidates as we speak.” Nicco raised his mug to his lips and took a swig of coffee. “Hopefully she’ll find someone soon, but in the meantime you can reach me by phone or email.”

“That works for me.”

“One last thing. I want the party to be a surprise, so I’d appreciate if you kept everything quiet.” Leaning forward in his chair, he glanced conspicuously around the café to ensure no one was listening in. “The only people who know about the anniversary bash are my brothers, Demetri and Rafael, and I’d like to keep it that way.”

“I can do that!” She fervently nodded her head. “Covert is my middle name!”

Laughing, they clinked coffee mugs.

Claudia’s cell phone vibrated, and when she glanced at the screen, her face brightened. “I apologize for the interruption,” she said, swiping her cell phone off the table. “Do you mind if I take this call? It’s my husband, and I’m worried he’s still stuck at the Orlando airport.”

“Please, by all means, go ahead.”

Claudia pressed her cell phone to her ear. “Santiago, bebé, ¿estás bien?”

For the second time in minutes, Nicco swallowed a laugh. Claudia sounded more like a love-struck teenager, than an accomplished businesswoman who’d recently been featured in top magazines. With her cell phone at her ear, she swept through the café, speaking in a hushed tone. Nicco scoured the café for the blonds in the daisy dukes he’d spotted earlier, but couldn’t find them anywhere. And that sucked, because he needed a woman in his bed bad. Like yesterday. Sex was his favorite pastime, the only thing ever worth missing a round of golf with his brothers for. And Nicco couldn’t think of anything better than having a gorgeous woman—or two—between his black satin sheets.

Punching in his cell phone password, he fired off a quick text to his older brother, Rafael, and waited anxiously for his reply. For months, Nicco had been debating whether or not to buy Javalicious, and as he sat in his corner table watching the staff fly around the room like busy bees, he decided investing in the coffee shop would be a smart, solid business move. And if Rafael agreed, he’d be one step closer to owning the popular Ocean Drive café just steps away from Miami Beach.

“Wesley, I don’t need you to take care of me. I’m a strong, intelligent woman who can take care of herself. Got it?”

Frowning, Nicco shot a glance over his shoulder, curious to see who was responsible for the loud, angry outburst. Seated directly behind him, a woman with short black hair and dressed in pink workout gear spoke on her cell phone. Nicco couldn’t see her face, but there was no mistaking her frustration, or the contempt in her voice for the person on the line.

“Please, you wouldn’t know the truth if it walked up and slapped you!”

Nicco cracked up. But when he saw the puzzled expressions on the faces of the patrons seated nearby, he killed his laughter and pretended to read the menu card propped up against the napkin holder.

“Sorry about that.” Claudia took her seat and rested her cell phone on the table. “My husband was calling to give me an update on his schedule. He’ll be in Miami within the hour.”

“Then don’t let me keep you,” Nicco said. “We’re finished, so go meet your husband.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’m positive.”

Up on her feet, her eyes twinkling like diamonds, she collected her things and flashed a friendly wave. “Take care of yourself, Nicco. I’ll be in touch.”

The second Claudia rushed out the café doors, Nicco searched the room for the woman in the pink workout gear. He found her standing in line, typing furiously on her cell phone, wearing a cheeky grin. Nicco stood in the middle of the café, staring at her. Her facial features were perfect, and so was her taut derriere. Last night, at the grand reopening of Dolce Vita, he’d met scores of women, but they all looked the same—long, silky hair, coats of thick makeup, wearing tiny dresses that left nothing to the imagination. But the woman in front of him now with the killer curves and big brown eyes instantly seized his attention. She’s a stunner, nothing short of magnificent, the most striking woman on the face of the earth.

Nicco moved forward, toward her. Couldn’t help it. Couldn’t stop himself. His hands itched to touch her, to squeeze, to caress and stroke her delectable, hourglass shape. Her tank top showed off toned arms, her leggings fit her body like a second skin, and her neon-pink sneakers drew his gaze down the length of her long, sculptured legs.

God bless the man who invented spandex! The woman had a body that made him salivate. Her looks were jaw-dropping, clear off the Richter scale, and Nicco found it impossible to turn away from her. He more than liked what he saw—her dimpled cheeks, the beauty mark above her mouth and most importantly her fine, feminine figure. His thoughts were all over the place, jumping from one illicit image to the next. Battling the needs of his flesh, he stood transfixed, unable to move.

The woman glanced up from her cell phone and caught his eye. Nicco’s heart rate sped up, beating at a wild, fanatic pace. For a moment, all he could do was stare helplessly at the beauty standing across the room. That’s it. Breathing required every single drop of energy he had left.

Her glossy, pink lips slowly curled into a smile, one that hit him straight in the heart. And when his eyes zeroed in on her moist, lush mouth, Nicco imagined himself planting one on her. A long, sensuous kiss that would turn her on.

Nicco watched the woman pay her bill, and when she headed in his direction, he surfaced from his sexual haze. Clearing his throat, he racked his brain for the right pick-up line, one that would capture her attention and buy him a few precious minutes of her time.

“How was your workout?” Nicco winced when he heard the question slide past his lips.

How was your workout? mocked his inner voice. Surely you can do better than that. Quit staring at her cleavage, man, and get your head in the game!

Her feet slowed and a frown bruised her lips. “My workout?” she repeated, regarding him closely. “Were you in my Bootie Camp class this morning?”

Nicco chuckled. “No, unfortunately I missed it. Where do you teach?”

“Why? Are you looking to drop a few pounds?”

“Do I need to?” Raising an eyebrow, he cocked his head to the right. Nicco wanted her to get a good look at him, so he stood tall and squared his shoulders. He saw her eyelashes widen and flutter, and heard her quick intake of breath. She darted a glance down at his shoes and a sly grin claimed his mouth. That’s right, baby. I wear a size twelve shoe. How you like me now?

“Since you’re a fitness instructor, I’d love your expert opinion.” Nicco rested his hands on his waist and displayed a bold, in-your-face stance. “Am I in good shape or not?”

Rolling her eyes, an exasperated expression marring her features, she heaved her gym bag over her shoulder and stepped past him as if he hadn’t just asked her a question.

Nicco didn’t know what possessed him to touch her, but when his hands connected with her flesh he felt a rush, a charge so powerful his knees buckled. They stood in the middle of the café, staring at each other. His desire for her so strong, his mind went blank. “Please don’t go. We’re not finished talking.”

Leaning forward, he read the name printed on the top hand corner of her tank top. Jariah Brooks. Nicco tried it on for size, allowing the syllables to stroke the length of his tongue, before deciding that her name was as striking as her dark, creamy complexion. “I’d love to take you out sometime, Jariah. Can I get your phone number?”

“I’m busy.”

“Every night?”

“Look,” she snapped, “I’m having a really bad day, and I’m not in the mood to hear any of your slick lines, so go hit on someone else.”

“Let’s sit down and talk.”

“Let’s not and say we did.”

“Do you know who I am?”

Jariah sputtered a laugh. “No, should I?”

“I think so.” Bragging was usually beneath him, but to impress the saucy fitness instructor, he was willing to use every trick in the book. “I’m well-known around these parts. My picture is always in the newspapers and on TV.”

She stared at him for a moment, as if trying to place his face, then fervently nodded her head. “Oh, wow,” she gushed, pointing a finger at him. “I thought you looked familiar.”

A grin overwhelmed Nicco’s mouth. Finally. Now that Jariah recognized him—and knew that he was one of the most successful restaurateurs in the nation—they could skip the preamble and head straight to the penthouse suite at his favorite, luxury hotel. He had plans for Jariah, plans that involved whip cream, Cristal, and a box of Magnum condoms, and the sooner they got to his suite at the Hilton Bentley the better.

“You were on last night’s episode of Cheaters, weren’t you?”

Hanging his head, Nicco clutched his shirt, as if wounded by the dig, but deep down he was amused. Aroused actually. He loved their playful banter. Much like her stunning looks, Jariah’s cheeky wit was a turn-on. But what Nicco liked most about the mocha-brown was her mouth. Her lips were thick, moist and plump, and looked incredibly inviting.

“Sorry, but I’m not interested.”

“Not interested?” Nicco chuckled a laugh. “Can’t say I’ve ever heard that one before.”

“There’s a first time for everything,” she said in a sing-song voice.

“Are you married?”

“Why?” she quipped. “Are you looking for your one true love?”

Nicco choked on his tongue. Hell, no! he thought, sliding his hands into the back pocket of his blue Levi’s jeans. I’m only thirty-four and besides I’m far too smart to ever do something as stupid as tying the knot! Nicco caught himself, just as he felt a tidal wave of guilt. Not everyone who fell in love and got married was foolish. His kid brother, Demetri, had found love with news reporter Angela Kelly—and he’d never seen a happier, more loving couple. Since popping the question last month on live TV, Demetri and Angela had become the newest celebrity “it” couple, and every time Nicco talked to his brother he waxed poetic about his new fiancée and their upcoming wedding.

Happily ever after isn’t for everyone, and it certainly isn’t for me. Nicco didn’t do relationships, and rarely saw the same woman twice, but he was willing to make an exception for Jariah-Curves-Galore-Brooks. One night with the saucy beauty wouldn’t be enough. He’d need a week with her, shoot, maybe even two or three.

Nicco couldn’t think straight. It was hard for him to stay present in the moment. He felt unsteady on his feet, as if he’d been smacked upside the head by a Roger Clemons fastball. This had never happened to him before. Ever. No one had ever affected him like this. Over the years he’d hooked up with a wide assortment of red-carpet darlings, but Jariah Brooks was the first and only woman to ever take his breath away.

His heart roared like the engine of his Harley Davidson, and when Jariah moistened her lips with her tongue, Nicco strangled a groan. I don’t know how much more of this I can take, he thought, raking a hand through his short, curly hair.

“Mommy!”

Nicco felt someone bump the back of his legs and a cold liquid splash onto his sandals. A chubby, wide-eyed girl with pigtails jumped into Jariah’s arms and giggled with delight. Her hands swung wildly, and every time she moved her drink splashed onto him.

Stepping back, Nicco snatched a wad of napkins off the breakfast counter along the front window and dabbed at the front of his black V-neck T-shirt.

“Mommy, can we go to the beach? Please? Pretty please?” the girl whined, tugging on her mother’s tank top. “I promise to be a good listener.”

“Not today, Ava. You have a dentist appointment at ten forty-five.”

The girl stamped her foot. “But I don’t want to go to the stinky dentist. I want to go to the beach! You promised I could go swimming!”

Intrigued by the exchange, Nicco glanced up. The little girl was the splitting image of Jariah. Mother and daughter shared the same dark brown complexion, wide, expressive eyes, and delicate button nose. A tanned, stocky man joined them, and kissed Jariah on each cheek. He wore a lopsided smile, and was so smitten with the fitness instructor he had stars in his eyes.

Feeling dumb for hitting on her, Nicco mentally berated himself for publicly making a fool of himself. He watched the trio exit the café, and as Jariah strode past the front window, hand-in-hand with her daughter, their eyes met. She caught him staring at her—again—but this time Nicco didn’t flash his trademark grin. There was nothing to smile about. Jariah had a kid, and at least two men in her life. And since children and drama were a turn-off Nicco tore his gaze away from her pretty face and studied his diamond Montblanc wristwatch instead.

Nicco dumped his napkins in the garbage. He had to hurry or he’d be late. He had an eleven o’clock meeting with the head of his security team, Gerald Stanley, and was anxious to hear if the former navy SEAL had garnered any new information about the break-in at his downtown restaurant. The perpetrators had caused thousands of dollars’ worth of damage, but two months later the police still had no leads. He suspected deep in his gut that his ex-assistant, Gracie O’Connor, was involved, but he wasn’t ready to share his thoughts with anyone. He was going to handle it his way, and no one was going to stop him—not even his brothers.

How had things come to this? How had things gone so bad, so quickly? Nicco wondered, expelling a deep, troubled breath. A year ago, he’d been on top of the world, living the good life, but the day before his thirty-fourth birthday his whole world had fallen apart. Twelve months later, he was still picking up the pieces.

Slipping on his aviator sunglasses, he strode purposefully through the café doors. Outside, at the intersection of Ocean Drive and First Street, Nicco spotted Jariah and her daughter. The little girl was cute, every bit as beautiful as her mother, and Nicco couldn’t help thinking what a great-looking family they were.

Nicco shook his head, dismissed the unsolicited thought that rose in his mind. Jariah Brooks is a stunner, but I definitely dodged a bullet there. Kids weren’t his thing, but playing the field definitely was, and as soon as he finished his workday he was making a move on the full-figured brunette at his favorite spa. The masseuse wasn’t as witty as Jariah Brooks was, but she was the ready, willing, down-for-whatever-in-the-bedroom type, and tonight, that was all that mattered to Nicco Morretti.