Authors: Alexandrea Weis
“I got it
,” Tyler cut in.
“Then call him and set up a meeting for tomorrow. You need to settle this mess.”
“Tomorrow is not good for me,” Tyler insisted.
“Son, Napoleon once said, ‘fortune is like a woman. If you miss her today, think not to find her tomorrow.’ So get your ass to Oklahoma, before the business suffers for your…stupidity.”
Gary hung up, and Tyler had to sit on the edge of his bed for several minutes, trying to quell his outrage. Deciding to leave the rest of his messages unanswered, he turned off the iPhone and rose from the bed. With his stepfather’s words still burning in his ears, he left the bedroom in search of Monique.
When he walked into the kitchen,
she was chopping carrots on a cutting board next to the sink. “What are you doing?”
“Making dinner.” She carried
a handful of carrots to a pan on the cooktop. “It’s just some stir-fry chicken and vegetables. Nothing too fancy.” She eyed his casual jeans and fresh T-shirt. “You took a shower?”
“Then I returned a
bunch of messages from the office.” He went to the cooktop and inspected the vegetables simmering in the frying pan.
She wiped her hands over
the white apron she had covering her black slacks. “Everything all right?”
“Just playing political games with some state representatives in Oklahoma.” Tyler leaned his hip against the island cooktop. “Gary has been trying to smooth things over with a project we have going into construction there, but it’s been touch and go.”
Monique lifted the pan and stirred the vegetables. “I thought he was retired.”
“He still likes to butt in every now and then.”
“Butt in?” She rolled her eyes. “That doesn’t sound good.”
“I don’t have much choice in the matter. Gary still thinks of Propel as his.”
“You have a choice, Ty. You run Propel, not Gary.”
“
Well, sometimes it doesn’t feel that way.” Wanting to change the subject, he quickly asked. “How did it go with Chris?”
She turned to the counter. “He yelled, I listened, and then I hung up on him.”
Tyler moved toward her. “That bad?”
She
wrenched a chicken breast from a sheet of wax paper and slapped it on the cutting board. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Moe, if he thinks it’s a bad idea for you to publish this book, maybe you should listen to him. He is your manager and—”
She stared at Tyler. “I thought you hated him?”
“I do,” he admitted. “But the man is also looking out for your interest. Would I prefer you hire someone else to be your manage
r? Of course, but in the meantime, I—”
“Are you dictating whom I can and cannot have as a man
ager?” She gripped the knife on the cutting board.
“No, I would simply prefer someone who isn’t in love with you.”
“You’re getting awfully possessive for a man who isn’t sure if he even wants to be in my life.” She hacked into the chicken breast on the cutting board.
“I never said that
,” he contended.
She kept her eyes on the chicken. “You didn’t have to.”
He removed the knife from her hand. “Before you decide to slice into me with that thing, let’s talk about what we are.” He put the knife down on the black granite countertop. “What do you want to do? To work this out, or when this vacation of mine ends do you want me to leave and never come back?”
Monique rested her hands on the counter. “I don’t want to scare you away. If I say I want more, I’m afraid you’ll run.”
He placed a lock of hair behind her ear that had fallen from her ponytail. “That is exactly what I have been thinking. I didn’t want to get too serious in case you got scared.”
“So what do we do?”
Her voice sounded so frail and childlike that Tyler
almost did not recognize it. He had never perceived her as vulnerable, but in that instant she became that little girl in desperate need of protection that Chris Donovan had spoken of.
A
loud crackling noise from the vegetables in the pan on the cooktop resonated throughout the kitchen.
Tyler motioned to the cooktop.
“Don’t burn dinner.”
Monique cursed as she
scooted to the gas cooktop and turned down the flame. “I hope you like your stir-fry crispy.”
He came behind her and placed his hands on her shoulders,
kneading them. “Maybe we’re scared because we both want this to work this time.”
She leaned her head back against his chest. “Or maybe we both know it can’t.”
“It can work, Moe.”
“What if you get bored with me?”
Tyler gently spun her around to face him. “I could never get bored with you.”
“The sex could get boring.”
He rested his forehead against hers. “Then we’ll have to go back to Mr. Binky’s to find something new.”
“All right, Ty.
I’m willing if you are.”
“That’s my Moe.” He
kissed her cheek. “Now what about my dinner?”
She sarcastically saluted him. “Yes, sir.” Monique went around him and back to the kitchen counter.
“Why is it a man’s emotions are directly linked to his stomach and not his heart?”
“But I am not your typical man,” he argued.
Grasping the knife, Monique began slicing the chicken again. “No, you’re not. You’re more into control than most men.”
“What are you talking about?”
“You know what I mean, Ty. You like being in control of your emotions and your women.”
His dark brown eyes went wide with disbelief.
“Lord, Moe, you make me sound like some kind of…Svengali.”
She finished slicing up the chicken breast and reached for another on the wax paper next to the cutting bored. “You are in a way. I can see how you like to stay on top of every situation. Even during sex, you like
telling a woman what to do.”
He waved his hand in the air, feeling defensive. “I am open to letting a woman take control in bed, but in my experience women like it when a man acts like a man between the sheets.”
Monique slid the sliced chicken breasts from the cutting board to a plate, and then carried the plate to the cooktop. “You really don’t know women, do you?” She dropped the chicken into the skillet of sautéing vegetables. “A woman lets a man think he is in charge, but it is really the woman who is in charge. Don’t you see?”
“There’s that strange logic of yours again.”
“Not logic, fact.” She stirred the chicken with the vegetables with a wooden spoon. “What if I was to take control in bed? How would you feel about that?”
He shrugged as he stood next to her. “I
might like it.”
“You like being in control, Ty. Admit it
…the thought of giving up control scares you.”
He picked out a piece of broccoli from the pan.
“No, I just don’t like sneak attacks.” Tyler popped the broccoli in his mouth.
“I think if you ever did let go and hand control to someone else you would discover a whole new side to yourself.”
“Moe, stop sounding like a shrink; you’re beginning to frighten me.”
She pointed her wooden spoon at him.
“You see, I was right.”
“I can’t win with you, can I?”
She grinned. “Now you’re getting the idea.”
Chapter 1
8
They had dined on the very crispy chicken stir-fry and after dinner had retreated to her television room on the second floor to watch a movie. Bart was settled between them on a bright green and white sofa next to a wide window that overlooked the garden in Monique’s back yard. The walls were filled with more old black and white photographs of landmarks in the city. As Tyler sat on the sofa, he anticipated Monique’s reaction to the coming cache being delivered.
“When did you get into collecting photographs of New Orleans?”
“After I married Mat, I wanted to decorate the house with a New Orleans theme. But instead of the gold fleur-de-lis, so common around here, I went with black and white photos from the city’s past. I thought it was different.” She snorted. “Mat called them cheesy.”
Tyler d
iverted his eyes to Bart, who was avidly watching the wide screen television. “Yeah, he struck me as a bit of a snob at the restaurant.”
“He was that. Thought he was God’s gift to women.” Monique’s gray eyes whirled around to him. “Kind of like you,” she added.
Tyler nodded, deciding to play along. “But I am God’s gift to women.”
Monique’s mouth fell open and then she lunged across the sofa
at him, making Bart growl with annoyance.
“I will be the judge of that
.” She sat on his lap.
Tyler wrapped his arms about her. “What will it take to convince you?”
She suggestively rocked her hips back and forth. “I have a few ideas.”
Grabbing her slender hips, Tyler stood from the sofa. Lifting her body in his arms, he carried her to the door and out into the hall
way.
“Let’s do it in my room,” she whispered.
By the time he entered her bedroom, Monique had already removed her shirt, and was working on her bra. Kissing her neck and cheeks, he hurried across the pale blue rug to her wide pine bed. After they fell on top of her blue and yellow floral bedspread, Tyler pulled his T-shirt over his head and threw it to the floor.
Her hands roamed the muscles in his back, and then her nails
raked from his shoulders down to his backside. “Do you like that?”
Tyler grimaced.
“Perhaps not quite so hard, baby.”
Pushing his jeans
and briefs over his round rear, Monique asked, “What do you like?”
“Breakfast in bed, long walks on the beach, romantic dinners,” he joked in her ear.
She slapped his naked butt. “I’m serious. What do you want me to do to please you?”
He eased the black slacks from around her hips. “Moe, you already please me
.” He let her underwear and pants fall to the floor.
She rolled him onto his back and straddled his hips. “Tell me
.”
He
winced when his back hit the sheets and then relaxed against the bed. “You know what I like.”
H
er fingers traced the muscles in his chest. “What else have you tried?”
“That works for me.
” His hands stroked up and down her slender thighs. “Why bother with anything else?”
She
glimpsed the gold Italian watch on his wrist. Monique removed the watch and put it on the night table next to the bed.
“What are you doing?”
“It will get in the way,” she told him. Lifting his arms over his head, she kissed his chest. When her teeth grazed his left nipple, Tyler sucked in an excited breath.
Still holding his
arms over his head, she angled over him, her right breast hovering above his mouth. “Perhaps it’s time we change things up a bit.”
Tyler heard a click above his head as he felt something soft latch around his wrists.
He fought to sit upright, and then realized his hands were secured to the round corner bedpost. When he peered up, the pink fur-lined handcuffs loomed above him.
“You’re not serious?”
Her hands swept down his chest, and then settled over his erection. “It’s time to let me have some fun.”
“Moe, I’m really not—”
She kissed his lips, silencing his protests. “Leave it to me. Relax, I’ll take care of you.”
“But this is—”
“Do you trust me, Ty?”
He closed his eyes and tried to settle against the bed, fighting his urge to get out of the handcuffs.
“You didn’t answer me.” She dragged her nail down the center of his chest.
“Yes, all right.” He flinched a
way from her. “Is this payback for yesterday?”
“No.”
She planted kisses down his chest. “This is something I think you need to experience.”
Monique
teasingly nuzzled his lower stomach, making him swell with desire. “You’re killing me, Moe.”
“This is just the beginning.”
Her lips slowly descended over his erection.
Tyler quickly forgot about the handcuffs and gave into the pleasure her mouth was creating.
Blood surged to his groin as her lips moved slowly up and down his shaft. He wanted to reach down and grab her head, forcing her to move faster, but then the handcuffs stopped him. When the tension in his loins was about to pass the point of no return, she suddenly stopped.
“
God, no, don’t stop!”
Moe’s lips traveled to his right nipple. She bit down hard into his flesh, and then her fingers
delicately stroked him.
Tyler
yanked against the handcuffs.