Zuri Day - Diamond Dreams

“Call Abe,” Jackson said, removing his jacket as he walked toward the walk-in closet at the back of the room. Abe Swartz was not only Jackson’s attorney but a longtime friend. “Tell him we need a private investigator.”

“Should I tell him why?” Marissa asked.

“Yes.”

A moment later, Jackson stepped out of his office dressed in jeans, a T-shirt and work boots.

Marissa smiled as she eyed her supervisor’s confident strides. She knew this routine. Jackson played the tough guy, and he was a typical alpha male. But he also had a huge heart, one that worried about those around him, those for whom he felt personally responsible. The anonymous threats were bothering him more than he let on. “Going to burn off some nervous energy?”

Jackson stopped at the outer office door, his hand on the knob. “Nervous? Do I look nervous? I’m going to engage in one of my favorite pastimes…working alongside my men.”

Chapter 3

Man candy. These were the words that came to mind as soon as she saw him. They’d exited a small building and now stood outside. Who is he? quickly followed that thought. As Diamond and the interior-design team had walked the floors of what would become the freestanding wine shop, she’d casually eyed the hardworking men. A couple she’d seen were buffed and toned, but others had average bodies and equally average looks. One or two had smiled and waved, but none had dared approach her. She’d smiled when she saw one worker nudge another after he’d surreptitiously winked at her. She figured her brothers had been their usually overprotective selves, warning the men to stay away from their little sister—no matter that she was the middle child or that said “little” sister stood five foot nine in stocking feet, with a full Beyoncé-like build and curves in all the right places. Growing up, she’d gone toe-to-toe with her brothers more than once, and until height and muscle replaced scraped knees and baby teeth, she’d pretty much held her own. Yet when it came to her and the opposite sex, the Drake line of defense was legendary. Every man she’d dated since the age of sixteen had come under intense and biased scrutiny. But she wasn’t interested in dating.

No interest. Too busy. I’m hardly even aware of these sweaty, shirtless, sexy men. Or of the gorgeous man now eyeing her openly. Yeah. Right. And Mona Lisa was a man.

“Jackson Wright,” Taylor said, when she noticed her last two sentences spoken to Diamond had gone unheard. There was a reason Taylor Stevens was one of the country’s top interior designers. She had an uncanny eye for detail that missed nothing.

“I’m sorry?”

“The man you’re totally aware of while trying hard to act as though you’re not noticing him? His name is Jackson Wright.”

Diamond tried for a quick recovery. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“If you mean you don’t know about the stone foyer I was speaking of, you’re right. Or the major design change I just mentioned. You haven’t heard a word I’ve said. But don’t worry. It’s totally understandable. The first time I saw him my reaction was the same. But fair warning. I’ve heard that he’s known for leaving women speechless and taking their breath away…among other things.”

Other things like what? Heart, soul, virginity? Diamond did not voice these questions. She didn’t want to appear interested in something that for her held absolutely no interest. Like human gods and whatnot. Diamond’s appearances in and around the construction site had been rare. But one thing was for sure: she’d never seen this god, uh, guy before. He had a face—not to mention a body—that one would not forget.

She shifted her eyes away from the tall, commanding stranger. It was the only way she could refocus on the task at hand. What is he…six-three, six-four? She frowned, surprised that her thoughts had not shifted along with her body. So much for out of sight, out of mind. In less than two minutes, this man had gotten under her skin, and truth be told…Diamond wanted to get under him.

This surprised her. Diamond Nicole Drake was a strong, powerful woman, healthy enough but not normally given to forceful, almost primal, sexual urges. She knew how to focus; discombobulated would rarely if ever be used to describe her. As a high-powered executive in the multimillion-dollar dynasty her dad had created, she was a woman used to being in control and demanding respect. Well, she wanted to demand something, all right, and didn’t care if it seemed the least bit disrespectful: a little rendezvous with Mr. Muscles. Private meeting. After hours. She’d even pay overtime.

Get it together, sistah! Why was she acting like she’d never seen a handsome man before? She had three of those in her immediate family. She’d grown up with fine men and dated them, too. Something about this construction worker unnerved her, and she wasn’t exactly sure how she felt about it. What she did know for sure was that nothing was going to take her focus off of making Drake Wines the chic, upscale resort she’d envisioned. And speaking of visions, the one just over Taylor’s shoulder was exactly what Diamond needed to bring her mind back to the singularly important task at hand—work.

With eyes still on the scene across what would become the resort courtyard, Diamond spoke to Taylor. “I’ll be right back.” Her long strides quickly ate up the distance between her and the group of men lounging on the ground. One was playing a video game, another two were checking out a sports magazine while a fourth was busy texting away. While still a couple yards away, she demanded, “What’s going on here?” The men looked up, but before any of them could speak she looked at her watch and continued. “It’s two o’clock in the afternoon, way past lunchtime. And you’re reading magazines and playing video games?” She pushed her sunglasses from her face to the top of her head. “Really? Are you serious?”

“Diamond, we—”

“Do I know you?” Diamond asked the man who’d been texting on his cell phone. “Because in the workplace, unless otherwise specifically indicated, I am addressed as Ms. Drake.”

Mr. Sports Illustrated tried next. “Ms. Drake, we—”

She held up her hand, deflecting further comment. “Never mind with the excuses. Where is your boss?”

Mr. Video Game pointed behind her. “He’s right there.”

Diamond turned, took one step and ran into a wall—otherwise known as the chest of Jackson Wright.

“Whoa!” Jackson reached out to steady a stumbling Diamond.

“Aw!” Diamond fell into Jackson’s arms. Is it me, or did the earth just quake?

Later, Diamond would wonder about the tangible jolt of electricity that raced up her spine before coursing through her nether parts. But she gave no thought to that as she quickly put distance between herself and Jackson.

“Is there a problem?” Jackson asked, removing the large hand from around the soft arm he’d just steadied and crossing his arms over a massive chest.

“I’d say that’s obvious,” Diamond answered, crossing her arms, as well. “Your men are slacking on the job, and that is totally unacceptable.”

“My men,” Jackson began, his voice low and firm, “are on their lunch hour.”

Diamond raised a skeptical brow. “At two in the afternoon?”

“That’s right. We knew that Taylor would be conducting a walk-through and wanted to get to a certain point in the work before we stopped. And since these men will also be working past their usual cutoff time, this later lunch will help them get through what for some will be a twelve-hour day.” Diamond’s chin rose a notch as she continued to look at one of the most amazing examples of mankind she’d ever seen in life.