Donna Hill - Sex and Lies

Savannah grew jumpy with excitement. “You know I hate secrets,” she pleaded, although she kept plenty herself. “Can’t you at least give me a hint?”

“Okay, you beat it out of me.” He cleared his throat. “Remember I told you about the housing-complex deal that was on the table?”

“Yes.” Her pulse kicked up a notch and she held her breath. The housing complex would revitalize downtown Brooklyn and was touted to be the biggest single development in decades in the area.

“W-ell…” He drew out the word.

“Come on Blake,” Savannah begged.

“We won the bid and they love my design.”

“Blake!” she squealed, and jumped up from her seat. “Oh, my goodness, that’s incredible. I knew you could do it, baby.”

Blake laughed deep in his throat. “I am sailing! This is major. This project is so high profile. I’m going to be on the map for good.”

“I’m so proud of you,” she said, breaking down each word.

“This calls for a celebration. I thought we could go out tonight.”

The wheels of elation came to a grinding halt.

“Tonight?” she croaked.

“Yeah.” He paused. “Oh, you have that thing tonight.”

She heard the disappointment in his voice. She squeezed her eyes shut and tried to think. There was no getting around missing the meeting at TLC, not to mention the extra time she would have to spend at work.

“Look, I’ll be finished by nine, nine-thirty. It’s Friday. Let’s go for a late dinner and spend the day in bed tomorrow.”

“Hmm, I like the sound of that already,” he said, perking right up. “I’ll make reservations at The Cabaret and I’ll leave tomorrow in your very capable hands.”

“Perfect,” she purred into the phone. “I’ll meet you at the restaurant no later than ten.”

“Can’t wait. I’ve been aching for you all day,” Blake said, his voice growing thick.

Savannah squirmed in her seat and licked her lips. “I’ll make it worth your while,” she cooed.

“I intend to hold you to that. See you tonight.”

“Love you,” she whispered.

“Love you right back.”

Slowly Savannah hung up the phone. Well, she certainly had her day cut out for her.

B lake hung up the phone just as his assistant Jasmine poked her head in the partially open door.

“Blake, they’re waiting for you in the conference room.”

“Thanks, J. I’ll be right there.” He took his jacket from the back of his chair and put it on as he walked out. Jasmine handed him a manila folder as he passed her desk.

This meeting would be brief, Blake mused as he continued down the short hallway. Tristan Montgomery said she wanted to confirm some dates. That was something that could have easily been taken care of on the phone, but Ms. Montgomery never missed an opportunity to visit his office under one pretext or another.

“Sorry for the wait,” he said, opening the door and stepping right inside. He shook hands with Tristan and then her latest assistant. As usual Tristan was dressed to exploit all of her attributes. Today it was a burnt orange number that dipped a little too low for nine to five.

“Not a problem,” Tristan said. “Jasmine made us very comfortable.” She let her eyes wander up and down his body.

Blake cleared his throat and smoothed down his tie as he sat. “So what do you need clarified, Ms. Montgomery?”

She pouted. “Please, Blake, we’re in bed together, so to speak. You can at least call me Tristan.” She rocked him with her expensive smile.

Blake sidestepped the comment and straightened his tie again. He opened the folder that Jasmine had given him before glancing up and across the hardwood table. Tristan was staring at him as if he were a rare delicacy that had been set on the table for lunch. He wanted to tug his tie off. It was suddenly cutting off his circulation. Being in the same room with Tristan Montgomery always did that to him.

She was one of the few black elite that was born into money. Her late father, Graham Montgomery built his fortune in the real-estate game. He’d started off by renting apartments for a small agency. Learning everything he could about investment property, he bought his first building at the age of twenty-five. Upon his untimely death at sixty-two, Graham Montgomery was a billionaire with property dotting across the country, from high-rise office buildings to luxury condos and strip malls. Before his death he started to stake a claim on one of the Hawaiian Islands. With his passing, his only child inherited it all.

“Uh, based on the rollout schedule I don’t anticipate any problems,” Blake said, keeping the conversation on track and his eyes on the documents in front of him.

Tristan slowly rose from her seat and rounded the table like a panther on the prowl until she stood slightly behind him. She placed her hand on his shoulder and leaned down to read the notes in front of him. Her left breast brushed his shoulder.

Blake tugged at his tie. “I was pretty sure that Jasmine gave you a copy,” he said, trying to keep his voice light.

“You know how it is with copies…”

He was forced to look up at her. “No, actually I don’t.”

Tristan grinned and eased back. “They’re nothing like the real thing,” she said as she returned to her seat with the folder in her hand. She made show of reviewing the timeline.

“Were there any questions that you had in particular?”

“Actually, yes.” She flipped the folder shut. “With you being so busy with the design and overseeing construction, when will you ever have any free time?”

“Excuse me?” He couldn’t believe that she went there—and in front of someone else. Maybe this was all some kind of game, a test of some sort.

“You know the old saying—all work and no play…”

“I’m sure I’ll find time to relax. My main priority at the moment is getting this job up and running. That’s it,” he added, looking her deep in the eyes.

She lifted her chin ever so slightly. “I’m sure you have everything under control. But since it’s my money that is financing it, I want to make sure that every i is dotted and every t is crossed.”

“Of course. I can assure you that there is nothing to worry about.” He glanced from one woman to the other then stood, hoping she would get the hint. “Is there anything else that we need to discuss?”

“Yes, your availability next week.”

He frowned. “Excuse me?”

“I’m hosting a dinner party at my penthouse next week.” She picked up her clutch purse from the table. “There are several people I want you to meet, potential clients.”

“Sounds wonderful. Both me and my wife, Savannah, love dinner parties.” He reached across the table, snatched up the folder and tucked it beneath his arm.

Her eyes tightened just a hint. “I’ll be sure to get all the details to Jasmine.”

“Great. I’ll walk you both to the elevator.” He held the door open for her. When she passed she ran her hand along the sleeve of his suit jacket.

“Armani?”

Blake swallowed. “Yes.”

She grinned, her hazel eyes darkened. “I can always tell. You’re a man with good taste. I like that in a man.” She brushed by him and walked out.

Once they were gone, Blake released his long breath of tension. He stopped at Jasmine’s desk. “Listen, the next time that woman comes here you make sure you buzz me after five minutes.”

Jasmine tried not to laugh. “Don’t tell me she hit on you.”

“I won’t.” He walked off to his office.

Once inside the safety of his own space, he took his tie off completely. Tristan was a gorgeous woman there was no doubt about that. And he knew a come on when he saw one. In all the years of his marriage he had never strayed or contemplated straying. He was more than happy with Savannah and he didn’t need the distraction of a hot socialite to ruin his track record. He certainly hoped that Ms. Montgomery stayed on her side of the dividing line. Mixing business with pleasure could bring nothing but trouble.