Pleasure After Hours

Sanford nodded, but there was no agreement dwelling in his hooded green stare.

“You don’t look convinced, San.” Mataeo decided to call him on it.

Again, Sanford cleared his throat. “That’s not it.” He waved toward the waiter for a refill.

“What is it then?” Manson inquired.

Sanford ran a finger along the inside of his collar. “Just not all of us have been as lucky as you to find a woman like the one you’ve been blessed to marry.” He tapped his index and middle finger to his forehead and offered Mataeo a mock salute. “You’re smart to hold on to your freedom, man.”

“Nonsense.” Manson was shaking his head. “Don’t listen to it, kid. There’s nothin’ like building a life with a woman you love, trust and desire,” he told Mataeo before turning back toward Sanford. “If you view your marriage as less than a blessing, perhaps you should consider improving your role as a husband.”

Manson didn’t wait for Sanford’s response but turned his focus back to Mataeo. “There anyone special, son?” he asked and shot Sanford a glare when the man chuckled over the question.

Mataeo shrugged, finding no cause to be less than honest. “There’re actually several special someones.”

“Ha!” Manson dragged a hand through a shock of white hair. “Nonsense—no such thing. There can only be one,” he declared with a wink and a smirk.

“Business can be sweet when it’s successful but it can be a cold bitch on most nights.” Manson paused to take a swig from the fresh, chilled bottle the waiter set before him. “Love, marriage and family are what keep a man sane and keep him in the game.” He downed a healthy swig and then waved at someone across the sunlit dining room. “Fellas, I see a friend I should speak to.”

“Don’t let the old man fool you,” Sanford cautioned Mataeo when they were the only two at the table. “When it comes down to passing along that client list of his, it’s gonna be about who has the better cold bitch of business—not the better wife or…special someones.”

Mataeo supplied a cool smile and barely raised a brow. He and Sanford enjoyed their drinks in silence until Manson Yates returned.

Chapter 2

“Are we still headed for Ms. Grahame’s, boss?”

“Yeah,” Mataeo mumbled raggedly as he made his way into the Maybach following his nerve-trying lunch with Manson Yates and Sanford Norman.

Feeling edgy regarding the close of a business deal wasn’t a thing he experienced regularly. In truth, it wasn’t the deal that had him on edge. He’d be damned if he could understand why marriage, or the lack thereof, would get to him when it never had and when he’d doubted it ever would.

Yet there he sat in the back of a ridiculously expensive car, bought and paid for with his own sweat and blood, and pondered his worth as a man.

Special someones were things most often taken lightly. Still, they came in quite handy on the nights when the “cold bitch” of business was kicking his butt.

So why had he done his damnedest to avoid them for the better part of the past five months? Had it been longer? Was he disillusioned? Did he need to freshen up his stock? Were Manson Yates’s words truer than he cared to admit?

“Crap,” he muttered, having whipped open the bar to discover his favorite whiskey was running dangerously low.

“Ro?”

“Yeah, boss?” Roland Sharp called from the front of the car.

“We need to restock the bar back here.”

“I’m on it, boss.”

Mataeo drained the last from the blocky bottle. He settled back against the comfortably cool leather seats while musing that his drink was one “special someone” that never disappointed. He closed his eyes and let his mind go blank for a time.

Perhaps he really did need to just freshen up his stock, he resolved upon opening his eyes. The current lineup, while beautiful and seriously eager to please, had fallen into the same mode of behavior as so many others who had come his way in the past.

Despite knowing they weren’t the only ones who warmed his bed, each fancied herself the one who would give him cause to abandon his freedom. Then what Sanford Norman referred to as “nagging” began. It never failed to intrigue Mataeo how rigorously a woman could “nag” when the possibility of commitment loomed far off into the horizon. This behavior ran the spectrum from the most freaky and promiscuous to the most intelligent and reserved.

Replenishing the stock wouldn’t be a problem at all for Mataeo. Not when his physical gifts were so dangerously appealing. Even women already schooled on his success with the opposite sex were unfailingly lured to the provocative flame he generated. His massive build was just shy of 6 foot 8 inches, which made it easy for him to command attention the second he arrived in a room. The honey-toned skin was as flawless as the taut muscles it covered. A deep-set smoky brown stare was fringed with shamefully long lashes; they even had the nerve to curl at the ends. Such was also the case for the curve of the mouth, equally as seductive and made more sensual by the striking dimple in his chin.

Yes, the assets were many and erotically powerful. Refreshing the stock wouldn’t be a difficult or boring chore. So why did he cringe at the thought of it? Roland’s voice mixed into his thoughts.

“We’ve arrived at Ms. Grahame’s, boss.”

“I got the door, Ro.” Mataeo had answered his own question before he stepped onto the sidewalk outside the condo tower. Replenishing the stock made him cringe because somewhere along the way he’d lost complete and utter interest in it.

“You’re early.” Temple glanced at the wall clock in her living room when she opened her front door.

“Told you I’d see you after lunch.” Mataeo brushed past her on his way inside.

It didn’t take much more to clue Temple in to his sour mood. She tossed her coarse, wavy hair, loosened from its usual confines of a chignon or coiled braid, and took note of the stiffness in Mataeo’s wide back.

“Well, I’m taking a call in the back so…grab a drink or something.”

“What do you think I’m on my way to do, Temp?”

Temple rolled her eyes and waved him off as she headed back to her home office.

“Damn.” Mataeo figured it just wasn’t his night, having opened the cabinet to the bar to find the Jim Beam running dangerously low there, as well. Shaking his head, he poured what remained into a stout glass and dialed the car from his phone.

“Ro? Grab an extra bottle of Beam for Ms. Grahame, will you?” With a quarter-filled glass in hand, Mataeo strolled into the living room.

In spite of his frightful mood, he couldn’t help but smile as he often did whenever he spent time at Temple’s place.

If the term “old school” ever fit anyone, it was Temple Grahame, he thought. The second oldest in a huge Southern family, her old-fashioned nature was a thing one could almost see.

Mataeo passed the sound system that, while state of the art, didn’t garner half as much use as the record player Temple had inherited from an aunt, who also left her prized possession of classic soul vinyls.

Mataeo studied the back of an album cover, nodding to the beat of the Curtis Mayfield piece that filled the room with its slick melody. Laughter in the distance caught his ear below the rhythm. Mataeo set down the cover, emptied his glass and headed toward the sounds.

Temple sat on the edge of her desk with her back to the door. With her bare feet propped on the seat of her chair, she faced a gorgeous view of late-afternoon Wilmington. As the sun set, the skyline gradually illuminated, offering a more brilliant picture of the city.

Mataeo smiled, enjoying the lazy drawl of her voice while she chatted. He wasn’t so much focused on her words as he was on the manner in which they were delivered. How many times had that voice alone soothed raging tempers during heated business conferences? He absently fiddled with his vest pocket as he thought it over.

Temple laughed again, catching Mataeo’s full attention. That time he was quite interested in the words she spoke, especially when he heard the name Kendall.

“Well, we’ll just see if you’re still talking so bold when I see you in a few weeks…ha! Right. Thanks Kendall…mmm-hmm… See you soon.”

Temple smiled, studying the cordless until Mataeo cleared his throat and grabbed her attention. “Damn you, Taeo.” She clutched her chest when she saw him in the doorway.

Mataeo barely managed to smile as she whirled around on the desk and faced him. Though she never raised her voice, her curses held a definite sting when they were directed his way.

“You taking a trip?” He ignored her agitation.

Temple eased off the desk. “That was Kendall Ingram. He’s a Realtor helping Mama settle some business on a property.”

Mataeo straightened from his leaning stance against the doorjamb. Obvious concern sharpened his already striking features. “Does Miss Aileen need help with anything?”

Waving off the gesture, Temple walked around her desk. “Everything’s fine—nothing to worry about. So why don’t you spend your time telling me about that lunch meeting instead?”

Though he grimaced, Mataeo didn’t seem to notice her subject change. “We were done talkin’ business before we ordered the first drink.”

“God, that bad?” Temple gathered the hem of her ankle-length peach housedress.

Focused on business once more, Mataeo moved to let her pass. He followed her from the office and back toward the kitchen.

“Depends on which conversation you’re referring to—business or the other.” He doffed his suit coat and dropped it on the back of an armchair. “The other got pretty weird,” he added.

“Weird?” A smile curved Temple’s generous mouth. “I wouldn’t associate that word with a man like Manson Yates.”

“Hmph. You would if you tossed Sanford Norman into the mix.”

“Ah…” Temple was browsing her cabinet. “What’d he say or do this time?” Gradually, Temple lost interest in her soup hunt as Mataeo explained the lunch topic.

“Weird indeed....” She turned back to the cabinet. “Then again, Manson Yates has been married almost fifty years. He and his wife have been together since they were teenagers.”

“Keeping up with the society pages, huh?” Mataeo’s gravelly voice softened on the question.

She gave a toss of her head and an awkward shrug. “Strong marriages are rare. When you hear about one, you pay attention.”

Mataeo wasn’t sure how to respond, so he went to search the refrigerator. “Well, the man’s dead serious when it comes to holy matrimony.” He studied the selection of juices along the door. “Didn’t mind telling me what he thought of my love life, that’s for damn sure.”

“Really?” Amusement crept into Temple’s light eyes. “And what does he think about it?” She set about heating up a large can of chicken tortilla soup.

Mataeo decided on what to drink while muttering something foul. “It’s just obvious that man’s got a thing for commitment and vows and whatever the hell else goes along with it.”

“Mataeo…” Temple set the pot to simmer and then turned to him. Disbelief had replaced her amusement. “Tell me you’re not thinking that Yates might base his decision on whether you’re married or not.”

It was Mataeo’s turn to shrug awkwardly. “I don’t think I have to be married.” He chugged down a bit of the pineapple juice. “But he made it clear that he didn’t approve of me dancin’ from one pair of arms to the next.” He slanted her a wink.

Temple lowered the heat under the soup. “Well, I hope he doesn’t think Sanford’s any more noble.”

“Is that right?” Mataeo drew closer, intrigued and not at all ashamed by wanting in on a bit of gossip. “You know somethin’?”

“Not much.” Temple reached for a soup mug that was hanging along the wall near the microwave. “One of his assistants goes to the same hair salon as me. Word is, any day they’re expecting the Normans to announce a divorce.”

“Mmm-hmm.” Mataeo pondered the information while taking a swig of the juice. At the same time, he reached behind Temple for the remote to the TV above her wine rack.

Temple rolled her eyes. “What’s the mmm-hmm about?” She stirred the hearty soup.

“Just sounds like we’re on even ground, after all.”

“Ha! I honestly don’t know whether to laugh or cry over how well I can read you.”

Mataeo only chuckled while surfing the channels.

“Please tell me you’re not gonna try fooling Yates into believing that you’ve seen the error of your ways and are now ready for a serious relationship?”

“Jesus, Temp.” He looked away from the TV and fixed her with a look of outraged innocence. “Not that I’d ever do something so low—” he ignored her knowing glare “—but I wouldn’t even have to go that far. Sanford put his foot in his mouth revealing so much about his own marriage I think he lost a few points with Yates.”

“This isn’t a popularity contest, Taeo,” Temple sang while heading to the refrigerator for cheese. “It’s about whose got the better business for Manson Yates’s clientele.”

“You know, it doesn’t help that you sound an awful lot like Norman right about now.” Mataeo leaned against the counter and focused on the television again.

“Well, at least one of you is thinking.” Temple headed over to lace the bubbling soup with shredded Colby cheese.

“I never forget that, Temp. My guess is that Norman knows who has the better business. I could see it in his eyes when he said it.”

Temple shook her head in response to Mataeo’s confidence, but offered no comment. She turned the heat down to low and rubbed her hand across his chest when she passed on her way out of the kitchen.

“Congratulations,” she said.

“Not so fast.” Mataeo shut off the TV and followed her to the living room. “I still want you to go with me to this cocktail party.”

“You say this like I know what you’re talking about.” Frown lines marred Temple’s brow. “What cocktail party?”

“Party and dinner. Yates and his wife are giving it.” Mataeo strolled back to the record player where a vintage Isaac Hayes cut played. “I can’t risk Sanford being there with his wife on his arm while I come alone.”

“I’m sure you won’t be alone.”

“Temple, please, you know I can’t take any of them.”

“Then take somebody new. With you there’s always somebody new.” She sighed while straightening magazines on the pine coffee table in front of the love seat.

“Temple, we both know Yates is no fool. Taking someone new won’t matter. Taking you is the right move.”

“Why?” Her hands stilled over the straightening.

Mataeo went back to the kitchen for his juice. “You’re my right hand. My go-to person. Taking you would keep it about business and not on some love affair, personal slant.”

“Right.” The disappointment flashed so briefly on her dark face that it could have been imagined. She chased the look away with a smug smile. “I must say that I’m impressed by your cunning thoughts,” she teased.

“Well, don’t sound so surprised.” His tone was gruff.

“Hey, forgive me. I’m always surprised when you come up with complex plans without my help.”

“Funny. So can I count on you to be there?”

Temple tapped her nails on her hip and considered the request. “Why not? But Taeo, even my attending a cocktail party won’t mean much if there’s nothing to follow it up with. We need to set meeting times to get all our ducks in a row for this survey expedition. We haven’t even set up a date for that.”

“Right.” Mataeo grazed the back of his hand along the angle of his jaw. His mind had returned to the true business at hand. “Have you done anything with that yet?”

Temple smirked. “Since you gave it to me this morning? No.”

“Watch it.” He took his spot on the sofa and Temple followed suit. His thumb stroked the cleft in his chin as he watched her settle down next to him. The fabric of her housedress carried a light fragrance.

“First thing we need is a meeting of the crew. The crew chief especially.” She tucked a few thick strands behind her ear. “Will you hire new people to handle this?”

Mataeo reclined on the sofa and brought his feet to the coffee table. “I don’t see the need. We’ve got a top-notch crew—they can handle whatever I dish out.”

“All right…” Temple reached for the notebook she kept on the high table behind the sofa and began to jot reminders. “Since we have no idea what the man needs to see, a brainstorming meeting with the crew is crucial.” She chewed on the cap of the pen. “What’s our time frame for this?”

“I think it plays in our favor to have Yates see things at the beginning stages and what lengths I’ll go to ensure his clients are pleased.”

“Hmm…” Temple’s brows rose as she made the notation. “More great thinking— You really are impressing me.”

“That’s it.” Mataeo grabbed a fistful of her housedress and made a play at attacking.

Temple moved quick and laughed all the way back to the kitchen.

“Yates needs to be there but I think it’d be good for Sanford to see the place, too.”

Temple whirled around just after she cleared the doorway and brought both hands to her hips. “Are you insane?”

Mataeo placed his hands behind his head. “You know I am, but this isn’t about that. I’m hoping to send a message.”

“Which is?”

“Sanford’s already intimidated by me—that’s not overconfidence, that’s fact,” he said when she opened her mouth to argue. “When he sees what lengths North Shipping is willing to go to, he’ll start making an even bigger fool of himself.”

“Well then, the two of you will be a matched set because this is definitely your most foolish idea.”

Temple continued to grumble in the kitchen while Mataeo hummed contentedly on the sofa.

Chapter 3

“These are standing meetings. Mr. North enjoys holding them over the course of each week with every department.” Temple eased a sheet toward the young man seated next to her on the sofa in her office. “Your job will be to contact everyone and let them know what’s on the agenda.” She leaned back to judge his reaction. “I know this isn’t quite as meaty as you were hoping for but it’s a terrific way to familiarize yourself with such a large staff, which will definitely be important as you move up in this place.”

“Ms. Grahame, this is fantastic.” Edmund Jansen held the departmental list as if it were a priceless document. “I can’t wait to get started.”

Temple grinned and scooted closer to the coffee table for another portfolio. “Then let’s move onto the layout of the meetings.”

Temple and Edmund were wrapping up their conversation when Mataeo walked into the office.

Introductions weren’t necessary; Edmund took care of greeting the boss and thanking Mataeo for giving him the chance to prove himself. Temple came to her feet slowly and watched Mataeo accept Edmund’s adoration with a genuine smile. All the while she prayed the younger man’s enthusiasm wouldn’t have him blurting out the extent of his new chores for the boss.

“So what’s up?” Mataeo closed the door behind Edmund when he left.

“Just wrapping up a meeting.” Temple took folders from the coffee table and went about filing them in her desk.

“Kid seemed pretty excited about planning my events.”

“He um…” Temple cleared her throat and wondered just how much Mataeo had overheard. “He’ll just be handling a few things for me when I head down to Charleston. Remember I told you Mama’s working with that Realtor?” She looked up at him from where she knelt near a desk drawer. “I want to be there.”

“You sure there isn’t any more to this, Temp?” He eased a hand into his pocket and moved closer to the desk. “If Miss Aileen needs my help—”

“She doesn’t. I promise. Thank you, but it’s nothing like that.” She shut the drawer and stood. “Honest, Taeo, I’d tell you if it was.”

“I don’t get why you have to head down when there’s plenty of family around.”

“Because she’s my mother,” Temple snapped and then closed her eyes and produced a brief smile. “Nothing’s gonna go lacking around here. I’ve got tons of people around to handle whatever you’ll need.” She appraised the walnut trousers and unbuttoned vest he wore over a cream shirt. “Sorry I haven’t been able to find anyone to tie your ties but you’ll survive.”

Mataeo blocked her path when she moved from the desk. “I’m sorry.” His sharp features had softened by concern. Lightly, he brushed his hand against her jaw. “I didn’t mean to offend you.”

“You didn’t.”

“Temple—”

“You didn’t and I’m sorry I went off that way.” She tapped her fingers along the side splits of the misty-blue skirt she wore.

“You deserved to go off.” He took her chin between his thumb and forefinger while closing a bit more of the distance separating them. “You work your butt off around here. If anyone deserves to go home and see their mom, it’s you.”

“I’m still very sorry for snapping at you like that.” Her entrancing eyes mirrored the concern in his.

It went without saying that Temple’s apology was less about snapping and more about the fact that she had a mother to see. Mataeo had been alone since she’d known him. Shortly after their friendship began, it became clear that the subject of his family was off-limits. It was obvious, however, that he enjoyed the family element. He spent time with her huge tribe whenever he could. The Grahames and Hammonds of Charleston, South Carolina, loved him like he was one of their own.

Mataeo kept his hold on her chin but caught her hand in his when she patted his chest. “Are you really okay?”

The gravel-toned voice tempered by softness stirred a reaction in places Temple decided it was best not to think of.

“I am.” She nodded encouragingly. “I honestly am.”

Mataeo was not buying it, if the narrowing of his bedroom browns was any clue. He’d known her too long not to pick up on the weariness in her voice and bright eyes.

“Would you like me to put somebody else on this survey thing?”

Temple threw her head back and laughed. “I’m not about to put another poor soul in your line of fire. I promise it’ll all be in place before my trip.”

His smoky gaze grew dangerously narrow then. “I don’t doubt you can handle it. I just don’t want you overdoing it, all right?” He tilted his head but his eyes never left her face.

Temple, though, had lost her focus. No. No, she knew exactly where her focus was. It was on his hand smothering hers, his thumb soothingly albeit innocently brushing her palm.

“Temp?”

She prayed her lashes weren’t doing their god-awful fluttering. “I’m good, please.” She hoped her voice didn’t sound like a moan.

“You’re trembling.” He released her hand to run his along the silver sleeve of her blouse. He frowned and tugged her closer.

That stirring reaction had become a dull throb in a place best not mentioned. Temple swallowed and tried to gently extract herself from his hold. “It’s good you’re here, though. We should talk a little more about these meetings.”

“Hold it.” His hand tightened on her arm and he drew her near until she was flush against his chest.

“Mataeo, I—”

“Shut up. I want you to come to me if you need to talk.” His thumb began a maddening stroke of her elbow. “Don’t ever think with all I’ve got going on that I don’t have time for you.”

Temple tried to laugh, but it came off as a nervous grunt at best. “I don’t need to be handled, Taeo.”

“But there are times when we could all use someone to listen.” He squeezed both of her elbows then. “We’re friends, aren’t we?”

Temple knew she was forcing herself to nod. “Thank you.” She went a step further and forced her mouth to curve into a smile. “I guess it’s just getting everything arranged before the trip.” She shrugged. “It’s got me in a funk, but I’ll be fine once it’s all in place.”

Accepting the excuse, Mataeo nodded slowly. “Well, I might be able to help you with that. We’ve got a meeting in ninety minutes with Ike Melvin, the crew chief.”