Chapter 6
While the festivities took place on one side of the building, hard work was happening on the other side. Trey knew his presence had been requested in the conference room, and he really wanted to make his boss’s birthday party, but he was in the middle of snagging an appointment with the players in charge of real estate development at Ground Zero, New York City’s most revered piece of real estate since 9/11. They were looking at architectural firms to design a prominent expanse of buildings that would surround the Twin Tower Memorial design. Trey knew if he could place McKinley Black in the mix of this site’s rebirth, not only would his future be assured, but he’d reach his goal—millionaire status by the time he turned thirty.
That he was holding his own on this important telephone call was a feat in itself. From the time he’d stepped from the cool Empire State Building into the sultry morning air, he’d thought of little else but the tempting morsel he’d left behind. A passionate, provocative woman named Choice had pushed her way into his consciousness all morning long: as he hailed a taxi to take him the short, ten-minute ride to his apartment, while he stroked himself to release in the shower, while deciding what to wear (settling on the deep tan suit that reminded him of the color of her skin), and while trying to gather his thoughts for what could be the most important deal of his life. As he’d neared the Empire State Building’s bank of elevators, Trey could have sworn he smelled her fragrance. And as he’d leaned against the cool, steel walls, he’d remembered his back pressed against them with her in his arms—writhing, moaning, feeling better than anything he’d ever held in his life. He’d told himself all morning that thinking about her was hopeless, that he’d never see her again. How could he? He didn’t even know her last name. And while she’d said she was doing a favor for a friend, he didn’t know where this friend worked. No, best to forget about that little tryst and get on with what matters . . . taking care of business.
Ten minutes later, a satisfied Trey Scott stepped into the lively conference room. He zeroed in on Charles immediately and crossed the room. “Sorry I’m late, sir,” he said, extending a hand as he reached Charles’ side. “Important business call; couldn’t be helped. Happy birthday.”
“You’re on the right path, Trey,” Charles responded. “Business always comes before pleasure.” The two men continued to converse, with Trey relaying the good news of his upcoming meeting regarding office buildings around Ground Zero. “I don’t have to tell you how much of a coupe that will be for us to secure such a contract,” Charles finished. “Not even a month into the job, and you’d almost be able to write your own ticket in this firm.”
Remington, who in a bid to rekindle their relationship had barely left Choice’s side during the luncheon, noticed Charles and Trey talking intensely across the room. His eyes narrowed as he pondered what they were discussing. There were few men who intimidated Remington, and he’d never admit that Trey Scott was one of them. But something about the cocky, twenty-something Ivy-league whiz made Remington want to step up an already extraordinary game. On the surface, there appeared to be no reason for competition. Remington was one of the firm’s top architects and a partner. Trey was merely the director of business development. Remington had been by his father’s side since he began interning at McKinley Black during his junior year of college. His continued presence at the firm was guaranteed for as long as the company was in business, and he was being openly groomed to become CEO whenever his father chose to relinquish that position. Trey had an exceptional work record, especially for someone so young, but came to the firm with lots to prove amid a competitive, cutthroat field with hundreds of thousands of dollars in commission on the line. Still, there was something about Trey that unnerved Remington. Maybe it was how the women in the office looked at Trey the way they used to look at him. Maybe it was the young man’s confident swagger, his self-assured demeanor, and the fact that he dressed as impeccably as Remington did, which was no small feat. Quite simply, the man seemed almost too good to be true, which is why Remington had decided that Trey Scott was an employee that bore close scrutiny . . . until he decided otherwise.
Choice turned to see who had caught Remington’s eye. In the same moment, a pair of intense, deep green eyes looked over at her. Choice’s mouth went dry. Her heart stopped. That she was surprised was a gross understatement. What is Trey doing here, talking to my father? A troublesome thought followed. Did he know who I was in the elevator, and is that why he was so ready to get me out of my clothes? More than once, an ambitious soul had mistaken Choice for a rung on the ladder to McKinley Black success, had assumed that, one, sleeping with the boss’s daughter was an option and that, two, securing said option would ensure their success. They’d been wrong on both counts. Charles McKinley was a hard man to please when it came to suitors for Choice; and his apple/daughter hadn’t fallen far from the tree.
It’s her! As soon as he’d seen Choice, Trey’s legs had moved of their own volition. He’d barely uttered an “excuse me” to Charles before moving slowly yet purposefully to where she stood. Now, he worked to connect his mouth to his brain, so that he could keep his cool under the watchful eye of Remington Black, a man who Trey knew had been watching him from day one.
“Choice, meet McKinley Black’s newest director, Trey Scott,” Remington said. “Trey, this is Choice McKinley.”
“Choice,” he said softly, taking her hand and placing a gentle kiss atop her knuckles. “Interesting name.”
Choice’s stomach flip-flopped as his lips touched her skin, and she immediately felt heat spread through her core. It was crazy to get this turned on by a simple touch, in the middle of the day, in the middle of a crowded conference room, with her parents mere feet away. Especially with a man who could have an ulterior motive where charming her was concerned. She forced herself to smile and respond somewhat dryly, “I have interesting parents.”
Their eyes caught and held, and for a moment they were the only two people in the room. The air fairly crackled between them, and seconds later, Choice realized that Trey was still holding her hand. Massaging it with his fingers the way he’d earlier massaged her mouth with his tongue.
She snatched her hand away. Remington noticed, frowned, and placed a protective arm around her shoulders. “Choice and I have known each other since we were children,” he said, looking at her in a way that suggested admiration if not love.
“Yes, we have,” Choice added. She wanted to be wrapped in Trey’s arms instead of Remington’s, wanted Remington to release the firm grip he had on her. “Our parents are close.”
Remington chuckled, squeezed her tighter, and placed a kiss on her temple. “Our parents aren’t the only ones.”
As if on cue, Arnetta walked over to the trio. “Darling, thanks again for putting together such a wonderful surprise for your father.” She turned to Trey. “I don’t believe we’ve met. I’m Arnetta McKinley-Baron.”
“It’s a pleasure, Mrs. McKinley-Baron,” Trey said, shaking her hand.
“Choice, you will join us for dinner this evening, won’t you? We’re dining at your father’s.”
Choice nodded. “Sure, Mom.”
Arnetta turned to Remington. “And we’ll see you as well?”
Remington beamed. “Of course.”
“And your mother is bringing her to-die-for carrot cake?” Arnetta queried.
Remington winked. “By special request.”
With a nod to Trey and air kisses to Choice and Remington, Arnetta waltzed out of the room, leaving Choice to marvel at her mother’s cunning ways. She’d invited Choice to dinner, knowing that she’d never turn down an invite to her father’s private birthday dinner, and then, without Choice having known beforehand, had invited Remington as well. And for her to drop this little tidbit in Trey’s presence? Mere coincidence or strategic planning? Choice’s bet was on the latter.