Melanie’s eyes darted around her cozy new office. Stacks of files, pens, and highlighters cluttered the dark brown Ikea desk. Her pack-rat predecessor must have been in a hurry to leave.
“So … what do you think?” One of the twin owners, Dave—or maybe it was Dale—asked after they’d given her a tour of the workplace.
The clutter didn’t rob her excitement of having her own office and direct reports. The Jeffersons theme song “Moving On Up” played in her head, and she couldn’t contain her smile.
“I can’t tell you how happy I am to be here. I just hate that the season has already started and I haven’t been able to build relationships with the baseball players.” She tapped her laptop bag. “I have a few ideas I’d like to show you.”
“We’d like to hear them,” one of the men replied.
She studied their faces for an identifiable way to tell them apart. Both wore their chestnut-brown hair parted on the same side, and even their clothing preference, something they could control, was hipster-styled. “Sure Da— Um, sir.” Shaking her head, she walked over to the desk to power up her laptop and nearly teetered in the four-inch stilettos Tiana had insisted she buy. Embarrassment flamed her face as she smiled at Dale and Dave. Going to adjust her glasses, she remembered that her friend had once again insisted getting rid of the “man-blockers” and that Melanie wear contacts. Unfortunately, the stupid, itchy things were drying out her eyes and driving her crazy.
“The new rookie pitcher, Jake Ross, is interesting. I created a profile on him and want to see if I can get an interview. Especially since he’s a Southern boy and made it clear he wanted to play for the Braves.”
Dale or Dave nodded. “Sounds like a good plan. Bring the profile and a few more ideas to our Thursday meeting.”
“Will do, bosses!” she called out as they left the room, then she sat in the leather office chair.
Throughout the day, coworkers came by to introduce themselves. It was a small, friendly staff of twenty. She could already tell she would become fast friends with a woman named Ashley when they’d realized their birthdays were one day apart and that they binged on the same television shows.
When the day finally ended, Melanie grabbed her recorder, laptop, and notepad before heading out the door. Tomorrow she’d hit the locker rooms to introduce herself to the players.
“Now what should I wear tomorrow?” As a female journalist in a male-dominated field, it was hard to establish relationships and gain respect from the players. One reason she dressed like a tomboy was to avoid being viewed as a piece of meat.
On her way to bid Dave and Dale good night, a roar of male laughter made her steps falter, and a trill of excitement tingled in her spine. She’d recognize his seductive rumble anywhere. A smile tugged at her lips as she rounded the corner.
Damien, along with Dave, Dale, and her direct report, Steve, stood in a circle. A prick of pain stung her chest. She couldn’t believe her best friend was officially engaged. She’d nearly chucked her phone out of her car window after he’d told her Vanessa had accepted his proposal. She rolled her eyes. Like Vanessa was gonna say no to him.
Damien patted the back of one of the twins. “Yeah, you guys did me a solid on the article about Aaron. Everyone’s been focusing on the incident and not on his talent.”
“There she is.” Steve pointed and smiled at Melanie.
She waved to the group. “Hey.” Mouth watering, she took in Damien, dressed in navy-blue slacks, a crisp white shirt, and suspenders. She breathed deeply and stifled the urge to jump her best friend.
He closed the distance, tucking her to his side. “As I said earlier, I consider Mel my little sister. Make sure you treat her well, or you’ll be hearing from me.” Damien ruffled her newly straightened hair as if she were a no-experience rookie.
Anger rushed her veins and spread as she silently fumed. Four hours sitting at the hairdresser to tame her curls, and Damien had reduced it with a noogie.
Did he really just threaten my bosses and my employee? Scratch that, she didn’t want to jump him. She wanted to jump on him.
“Of course we will treat her with care,” one of the twins answered. “Melanie, why didn’t you tell us you knew Damien? We’ve been trying to get an exclusive with his client Deshaun Paulson since forever.”
Narrowing her eyes, she aimed a lethal dagger at Damien. “Although we’re old friends, he knows full well I can take care of myself. And I’d planned to speak to big bro,” she said through clenched teeth, slapping his chest, “about Deshaun next week.”
She stepped away from his arms.
Her soon-to-be ex-friend’s eyes popped.
Yeah, that’s right. I’m pissed.
Damien clapped his hands. “All right, fellas, we’ll be taking our leave now.” He shook Dale’s, Dave’s, and Steve’s hands.
“I’ll see you all tomorrow.” Melanie gripped big bro’s bicep and steered him toward the elevator.
• • •
Damien mentally smacked himself as he watched his furious friend hop in the car and slam the door shut. The angry taps her feet made against the passenger-side floorboard confirmed Damien’s suspicions.
He’d had the best intentions when he’d attempted to surprise Melanie on her first day of work. He didn’t realize his presence had undermined her authority until he saw the anger staining her brown cheeks pink. Thank God she took the train to work. Knowing Melanie, she would’ve attempted to run him over with her car.
Pressing the ignition button and then shifting gears, he chanced a glance at Mel. “I didn’t mean to embarrass you.” He swerved into traffic.
She didn’t respond. Instead, she turned up the radio to the max. Unfortunately, Jay Z’s song about having ninety-nine problems didn’t help the situation. He needed soft words, begging, but with a little finesse. Boyz II Men or Keith Sweat would be perfect.
So he’d messed up by warning off her bosses. But he couldn’t help it. Since they’d been kids and her aunt burst into his parents’ home, frantic that her little niece hadn’t returned, he’d had an overwhelming need to protect Melanie.
Her fingers formed a small fist that gripped her fitted skirt. She was working her way into a full-out bitchfest chock-full of attitude, stomped feet, and SAT-level words, both clever and harsh. Melanie didn’t get like this often. But when she did, the world should take cover.
“I’m trying to look out for you. The sports world can be tough.”
She jerked her head, loose curls swishing against her chest, and shot him an eat-shit-and-die glare before scooting so close to the door her panting breaths steamed the window. Damien’s gaze dropped to breasts that rose up and down under her green silk blouse, straining the buttons and offering him a peek of black lace.
Gripping the steering wheel, he shifted in his seat, willing the growing bulge in his lap to cease and desist.
Not now!
He needed a distraction, something opposite of the sexy-angry woman beside him. Cute puppies. Kittens. Orphans finding a home.
Her normally soft doe eyes had turned to steel, a look designed to shrivel a man’s balls but did nothing to slow the rush of blood to his other head. Even Vanessa didn’t make him hard by merely breathing. His hungry gaze wandered back to Melanie’s teasing cleavage and seductive breaths.
Why couldn’t she be the type of woman who got ugly angry, with curled lips, bared teeth like a rabid animal, and flaring nostrils reminding him of a bull?
No. His Mel fit none of those descriptions. She was sexy angry. And her heavy breathing drew his unwilling gaze to her breasts again and made him wonder how she would look utterly spent under his body. Would her eyes light with undeniable intensity, driving him to go harder and faster and deeper? Could her angry nibbles be tamed to passionate licks and twirls of her tongue while her mouth wrapped around his hard—
Hoooonkkkk!
A driver on the passenger side waved and yelled more than a mouthful of curse words.
Melanie screamed and slung an accusing gaze at him. “Watch the road, hot rod!”
“Sorry. Must be this loud music.” He turned off the radio.
Shit! What was he thinking? This was Mel, his Melly Belly, and he couldn’t afford to screw up their friendship.
There’d always been something between them, an invisible string that had never severed. From the day he found her, she’d become his shadow. He hadn’t minded her hanging around and quickly discovered she had a wicked sense of humor and could make him smile when everything seemed dark and gray. There’d been a lot of gray days, a lot of arguments with his late father. After one of their drag-out shouting matches, Damien had rushed to his quiet place and scribbled a haiku in his notebook. Less than five minutes later, Melanie crawled under the bleachers, huddled close, cracked a joke, and performed a dramatic reading of his lackluster poetry.
They’d both discovered their love for writing and promised to write and mail letters during their school year. Hundreds of letters later, she’d become one of the most important people in his life.
He stole another glance at Melanie and stroked his chin. Damn. Why did she have to grow up?
Fifteen years ago, she had been a skinny little thing with Mary Janes, pigtails, braces, and glasses. He didn’t know if she’d permanently ditched the glasses, but damn if his best friend hadn’t filled out. She bloomed after her freshman year in high school. Figure-eight curves, sandy brown curls, and an ass … Well, over the years he’d had to knock a few heads over her ass.
He wanted to kick his own ass. Usually when it came to his best friend he was able to control his libido. But things had changed since that night when she was in college. She’d flown into town, upset after breaking up with her boyfriend, threw herself into his arms, and asked that he take her virginity. Ever since, the lid on their friendship had been blown.
He remembered her soft chest and soft lips, both pressed against him. He’d nearly given in. But the smell of a fruity cocktail and the pool of tears in her eyes stopped him. He didn’t want to be sloppy seconds to the asshole he knew wasn’t good enough for Melanie. He didn’t want her to have any regrets after the haze of alcohol had cleared.
After that night, he found their tattered friendship lid and sealed it shut. And for the past few years, he’d handled his attraction.
What the hell was different now?
He looked down at his lap, as if Mr. Too Damn Eager could talk. He was probably pissed by the lack of action. Vanessa had been too stressed by the news of her father for physical intimacy and said she wanted to wait until they were married, to build up the anticipation. But that still didn’t explain his growing attraction to Melanie.
Like a light flooding a dark basement, he had an epiphany. This silly little makeover thing was the reason for his impure thoughts. If he were Catholic, he’d be saying fifty Hail Marys.
Damn, she was doing the sexy lip/tongue thing now. He’d found her nervous tick adorable when she was a preteen and downright sexy as a grown woman. Make that fifty-one Hail Marys.
Tossing out a lure he hoped would do the trick and get his mind back on the friendship track, Damien tapped his fingers, feigning nonchalance. “The Braves are playing tonight.”
Melanie remained silent, and he deflated. What had happened to his friend who used to be easy to please, smiled openly, and ready to enjoy sports?
“Yeah. But it’s not broadcasting up here,” she said in a dull voice he knew was done on purpose.
Aha. He had used the right bait. He just needed to use something meatier.
“It is if you have MLB Premium.”
She peered at him like a curious squirrel, too afraid to scuttle over and get her nut. And yeah, he wouldn’t mind a little nibble.
He sighed again. Fifty-two Hail Marys.
“You have MLB Premium?” she asked in a more-than-curious voice.
“I do. I was thinking we could watch the game on my big screen. Vanessa is vacationing with a friend, and I figured we could hang out.” He shrugged. “Just the two of us.”
She scrunched her nose but still couldn’t quite conceal the excitement lighting her eyes. “Did you ever get around to buying a TV for your guest room?”
“Nope. And I didn’t tell you the best part. I’m making my world-famous, brings-tears-to-your-eyes spaghetti.”
She scooted a smidge closer. “The spaghetti with the little Italian sausage you slice up like pepperoni?” She made the shape with her fingers. “Not the ground beef, right?”
“Yup. It’s thawing out right now.”
She clapped and rubbed her hands together, then covered her ever-struggling smile with an almost stern frown. She cleared her throat in an apparent effort to be taken seriously. They were well past serious.
“I guess I could break bread and watch a few innings with you.”
“That’s too bad because I also have two cannoli for me and someone else. They’re from the bakery you love in Little Italy. But if you want to go back to your room, I’ll just eat them both myself.”
They stared at each other, playing the concentration game like they had as kids. She finally broke and snorted out loud. He joined her and laughed so hard his cheeks hurt.
Leaning into him, she grabbed his arm and rested her head on his shoulder. “I’m horny,” she said, her voice muffled against his arm.
His arm jerked. “What did you say?”
She reared up. “I said I’m sorry. I may have slightly overreacted. But you have to understand that no one will take me seriously if they think my big brother will beat them up if they do something I don’t like.”
His heart rate slowed, but Damien Jr. didn’t get the memo. Down, boy!
Clearing his throat, he attempted to take control of his body’s screwball reactions. “I’m sorry, too. I wanted to make up for the argument we had about my engagement. I don’t like us being at odds.”
She tilted her head back and groaned. “Me neither. And I may have overreacted about that, too. I just can’t believe you’re marrying her and for all the wrong reasons.” Melanie sucked a plump lip between her teeth.
“I understand. And honestly, I shouldn’t have just dumped it on you.” Taking his parking deck card from the console, he swiped the gate open, drove into his parking space, and turned off the engine before facing her. “I know I’ve said this already, but I have to say it again. Things won’t change for you and me,” he said slowly, so that she could hear his sincerity.
“Mmm hmm.” She nodded, staring straight ahead at the window.
“Hey, I mean it. Vanessa understands and respects our relationship.”
Just as quickly as her pursed lips and creased forehead appeared, she morphed into a lifeless Stepford Wife.
She had never doubted his word before, and she shouldn’t now. It pissed him off. “But you have to meet me halfway with my relationship with her. She’s going to be my wife, and I know if you give her a chance, you’ll see how nice she is. Can you at least try? For me?”
“Sure, D. I promise I’ll try.” She gave him a mock Girl Scout’s salute. “But let’s end the relationship talk and watch the game. I’m starving!”
“You’re always starving.” He unbuckled her seatbelt and opened the car door.
“Yeah, maybe I need to starve myself a little more.”
“Aw, don’t do the insecure thing some women do, Mel. You don’t need to lose weight. No one is going to look at you and say ‘she’s fat.’ Maybe P-H-A-T. Pretty, hot, and tempting.”
“Holy ’90s reference, Batman!” Melanie had always called him an old man, stuck in the days of yore, even though they were only two years apart.
He opened the door to the building, laughing all the way up the stairs and down the third-floor hallway.
He inserted the key into the door, and she grabbed his forearm. “I can’t wait for the Braves to kick the Cubs’—”
“Hi, baby!” An energetic Vanessa jumped into his arms as soon as the door opened. “I was waiting for you.”
Grabbing hold of his excited fiancée, Damien glanced back to find Melanie in the middle of an eye roll.
And that damn sexy panting thing was back again. He didn’t need to explain to Mel or Vanessa why his crotch made like Pinocchio and grew. The assumption would be it was all for Vanessa. Peeling his fiancée from his body, he gave her a hug and mouthed “sorry” to Melanie.