Merger
Authors: Heather Miles
M
ERGER
By Heather M. Miles
All Rights Reserved.
Copyright © 2014 by Heather M. Miles
Edited by: Hartwell Editing
Cover design by:
Melody Simmons
Contents
Chapter 1
Kasey
“Ugh!”
It was the only response I could come up with when I rolled over to see 4:50 glaring brightly from my alarm clock. It was set to go off at 5:00 and I couldn’t help feeling slighted by the loss of ten minutes. It was still dark outside, except for a few twinkling light from the city below. I peeled back the covers and swung my sleepy legs from the warm cocoon of blankets, shocking my feet on the cool marble floor.
The chime of my phone, followed by a bright glow in my dimly lit bedroom, drew my attention to the bedside table. I didn’t rush to look, knowing the only person on earth brave enough to text or call this early was my father. Steadying my elbow on the mattress, I leaned over to read his message, wondering if he ever slept. As a child, I never remembered getting a true glimpse of him asleep. He’d often
be awake and out the door before I even stepped foot out of my frilly pink childhood bedroom.
BENNY WILL BE THERE AT 7:00 TO PICK YOU UP. FLIGHT AT 8:00. MEETING WITH MR. CRAWFORD AT 1:00. SEE YOU TOMORROW. LOVE YOU.
Texting was a big step for my father. He hadn’t caught on to acronyms and spelled every word out, but he met the challenge like all the others in life and worked through it to success. I responded with a simple
“K”
and slipped on my workout clothes. Laying clothes out nightly in anticipation of the impending doom of my daily workout made getting up every morning at this ungodly hour tolerable. I didn’t have to think too hard on it; I just methodically put on my clothes and running shoes and left.
Working out was a daily routine, necessary for my sanity. I had always been slender, but loved running. It got me out of my crammed brain and also aided to keep my weight steady. I was known to partake, with minor guilt, in the occasional binge of chocolate and wine, both preferred vices of mine
.
The elevator doors opened on the basement floor of my building and I walked casually through the gym doors. I was unwinding my ear buds and fiddling with my
iPod, when I looked over to see my favorite treadmill occupied. I couldn’t see his face, but was keenly aware of his amazing body, muscular and lean. He had a stride like a gazelle, and from the sweat on his shirt I could tell he had made his presence here long before my feet hit the floor. Dumbstruck, totally awed, and apparently stuck in quicksand, I put my jaw squarely back in place and moved forward towards another treadmill. It was two down from my usual machine, but I didn’t want to infringe on my handsome treadmill thief, nor did I want to get pulled into running his pace. I climbed the black belt to nowhere and inserted my ear buds, trying to focus my attention forward, but lost the battle and found myself glancing to the left, hoping not to be too obvious.
He was drop-dead gorgeous, and I knew I’d never seen him before. Someone that hot never flew below radar. He was new, maybe not to this building, but definitely to me. He caught my glimpse, never breaking stride
, and smiled widely. I felt my stomach flip and quickly looked away. Awkwardly feeling like I’d caught the bird and was now spitting feathers, I childishly ignored him, trying to play it cool. I hit the play button on my iPod. The music rolled, and the treadmill belt charged forward. All thought of the beautiful specimen of manhood near me was now gone. Somewhat.
It was a little before six when I let the treadmill slow to a stop
, my run completed and my need to shower pressing. The sweat from my scalp burned my eyes and the feel of hot moisture felt heavy on my clothes. I turned from the treadmill absentmindedly and lost my footing. My legs were dense from running and my body tumbled forward…slamming into the muscular chest of my treadmill thief as he passed. He grabbed me by the arm to steady me, and I clumsily regained my footing, took a step back, and looked up the chiseled jaw above me. He was smiling casually, and it didn’t take long to see that his face was as stunning as his physique.
“I am so sorry!” I said, suddenly nervous and hotter than when in full stride on the treadmill
.
“No biggie. Always here to help a damsel in distress.” He was now grinning from ear to ear, his teeth perfect and white
, like a commercial for Crest.
Distress
. I was hardly in distress, until I looked at you.
Flushing under the weight of his arm, I pulled myself free from his hand and his stare, which had me completely glazed over like a hot donut. I’d officially become a gawker
.
“Thanks again
,” I managed to whisper.
I stepped to the right and he moved left, creating an awkward impasse. I looked up at him and shook my head as if to say,
“I’m not the idiot you see before you.”
He lifted his palms up in surrender, took a step back, and I moved around him towards the door. It wasn’t until I reached the elevator that was I finally able to catch my breath. I exhaled slowly and wanted to kick my own ass for coming across as a “damsel in distress,” as he put it.
“Good God.” I said under my breath while waiting for the elevator to arrive. Tripping and fumbling around like a stupid idiot in front of the new Adonis in my building wasn’t my idea of a good way to start my day. I stood waiting, wiping the sweat from my face with my shoulder, like a dog without useful appendages - dragging my cheek to the right and then the left
.
The doors of the elevator opened and a sudden presence overwhelmed me. I could feel him coming closer, like an electric current. The sudden urge to hold my breath took over.
What the hell?
I stepped into the elevator, and turned around to see him follow me. I was suddenly grateful that I lived in the penthouse; he would have to get off before me. Until then I’d just stand in the lift, will my lungs to work, and hope for a speedy assent. He reached over to the panel of unlit buttons and pushed eleven, then looked at me curiously, as if waiting for me to either tell him what button to push, or silently suggesting I push it myself. And just like the stupefied woman I’d been only moments earlier, I said nothing and awkwardly reached around his arm to press the top button, ‘P.’
“Joshua,” he said, his voice husky and deep
.
Oh shit, is he speaking to me?
I couldn’t tell if his voice was labored by his workout or from the air that had been sucked from our small space. I probably waited a second too long to speak, widening the gap of awkwardness between this beautiful stranger and me. I was rendered speechless and wanted to look around to see who he was talking to, but knew there was no one else.
“What?” I said, looking clueless
.
“My name,” he
flashed those teeth again, “is Joshua.”
I was trying not to stare, but lost the battle, I looked into his dazzling eyes. They were the deepest blue, like the sea, and his lashes
were unusually long for a man, which added a touch of femininity to his all-male hotness.
A model?
Perhaps, if I were guessing, but with no intention to ask, I just stared.
His jaw and cheekbones were prominent, and his lips were supple, the kind that begged to be kissed. He’d obviously not yet shaved, and the morning growth of stubble against his face made him remarkably sexy. His hair was brown and clearly styled by a few swipes of his hand to get it into some organized shape. His sweat
-covered body only elevated his sex appeal, which was bouncing all over our tight space. Chiseled to perfection, his every muscle was defined and tightly coiled.
I tried to stay focused on his face but had a hard time concentrating. My eyes wandered all over him
and I sensed by the smirk on his face this didn’t bother him in the least. His confidence was stifling, and I could feel more and more of the air being sucked from my small lungs. My imagination worked overtime. I knew what was hidden beneath his shirt and shorts, wasn’t any less to be desired. Based on what stood before me, combined with some incredible genetics, he was HOT!
He ran his hands through his sweaty hair and I could feel my mouth go slack. I quickly regained a bit of composure and
uttered, “Kasey.”
He
repeated my name, rolling it off his tongue as if to try it on for size and fit. I finally looked away for fear of melting. Then to my relief the elevator chimed on the eleventh floor. The doors slowly parted; he stepped out and turned around as the doors were about to close. His smile never faltered and his eyes were piercing. He didn’t have to say a word; his look said it all. I’d become an ice-cold bomb pop in the stifling heat of the elevator… he was devouring me one lick at a time, and I imagined it would be nice to let him.
I exhaled as the doors closed. How could a complete stranger have such an effect on me? “Holy shit!” I
exhaled, leaning my head against the elevator door as it closed behind him.
I walked into my unit and ran up the marble steps two-by two to shed my damp clothes. I was sweaty from my workout, but hot from my encounter with
Joshua the treadmill thief. I had never seen him before and would try to avoid him in the future since the mere sight of him rendered me completely dumb and mute. I smirked at my own stupidity.
What a twit!
I had already laid out my favorite black Donna Karan dress and Louboutin shoes, as well as my mother’s pearl necklace. The dress fit like a glove and made me feel sexy and powerful. The shoes had just enough heel to accentuate my calves without looking unprofessional. The pearls, on the other hand, were special, and I wore them any occasion I needed a boost of self-confidence. They weren’t needed to close this deal, but they held special meaning to me since my
mother had passed.
I proceeded to ready myself for a two
-day trip to Los Angeles. There was little time for big makeup or hair and, thanks to the good DNA of my parents, I didn’t need it. A few last swipes of mascara on my long lashes, and a hint of blush was all that was necessary to make me the beauty that my father reminded me of daily. He hadn’t called me by name in years. It was always “Honey,” “Sweetie,” or some other term of endearment. I loved him and knew that while his expectations of me were high, he was the most amazing man I’d ever known. He was driven, ambitious, intriguing, and thoughtful of everything and everyone. He was my inspiration and I worked hard to emulate him.
I set my bags, briefcase
, and purse by the door and waited on Benny to arrive with the car. I had just filled a cup from the espresso machine when he called my cell to inform me that he was here and would be up momentarily to retrieve my bags.
Benny was a permanent fixture in my life. He was the same age as my father
—they’d grown up together as schoolmates and childhood friends. He had salt-and-pepper hair, a round full face, deep green eyes, and a finely groomed handlebar mustache, his signature trademark. I couldn’t recall his not having that mustache, and remember being fascinated as a child with the curled tipped ends. He reminded me of some whimsical wizard with a broad smile and a skip in his step. I’m sure he was grateful when I outgrew my fascination with his facial hair and quit begging to touch it.
Benny had
worked for my father for nearly twenty-five years. He was like a second father to me and was as possessive as any devoted parent. Somewhere between childhood and womanhood, he’d become more than a driver; he’d become a guard and, when needed, a shoulder to cry on. He wasn’t an employee; he was family.
“Good morning
, Sunshine. Ready for L.A.?” He flashed a special “Benny grin” as I gave him a smart salute.
“Yes
, sir. I checked the weather and it is supposed to be sunny skies ahead.” The weather report was of no real value to me because I wouldn’t be enjoying the beach or spending much time outside of Crawford Enterprises, but a dependable forecast helped in planning my wardrobe.
I was headed to L.A. with the mission to win over the great James Crawford and seal the deal on the biggest merger in resources and acquisitions. My father’s company, Blakely Incorporated
, and Crawford Enterprises were slated to become one. I was the next in line as CEO and the only heir to my father. He invested well in my education: I received an MBA from Harvard, which put me in a great position to learn the business. I’d effectively closed and managed the bulk of our current projects and was now being sent to Crawford with that same purpose: to merge the companies and basically shut down all competition. It was all conquer on this trip. Mr. Crawford would succumb by charm or force, one way or the other.
“Let’s go then
,” Benny said, picking up my bags and ushering me through the door. “Don’t want you to be late.”
As we stepped into the elevator, my phone rang out a gaudy ballad, “Super Freak” by Rick James
: a catchy ringtone I’d tagged to the contact of my best friend Beth. She had earned the song when she found her way into the offer of a threesome by a hot guy and his willing wife. Of course she had declined, but the idea of the proposition made for a good story.
My friend since we were kids, Beth was a
knockout with beautiful red hair, amazing green eyes, and legs that went for miles. We had no secrets between us, good or bad; we told each other everything.
