Chapter 2
Gwen
“Girl, I am telling you, if you have not tried crawfish étouffée, you have yet to live,” Aaliyah exclaims as we cross the French Market and make our way back to our office down the street. We have just come from a lunch of alligator gumbo followed by some traditional bread pudding.
Crossing over Decatur Street, the humidity is light even with the hot sun, and a breeze blows in from the Mississippi River located just on the other side of a small hill to our right.
I have been in New Orleans for only two days now, and all I have learned is my marketing firm landed a big new client whom we were hired to help open a new nightclub in the Big Easy near the French Quarter.
Having little knowledge of anything in New Orleans, Aaliyah has stuck by my side and been my guide since I showed up.
My office set me up with a one-bedroom apartment in her complex, and we bonded my first night in town over a bottle of wine and some good New Orleans jazz floating up through an open window from the street below.
When we got hungry, we walked down the road, and she quickly began introducing me to many Southern Creole and Cajun dishes that made my mouth water and stomach full of some of the best flavors I have ever tasted.
A strong African-American woman, I admired Aaliyah’s strength the first day I met her.
Seeing Eva is now married and still on her honeymoon, it has been nice to bond with another strong woman and make a new friend in a new world I never saw myself being a part of.
If I was shocked to find myself in Kentucky, moving to New Orleans shortly after was never part of my plan.
But yet, here I am. And if I’m being honest with myself, strangely — it kinda suits me.
“So, what do you know about this new client?” I ask Aaliyah as we wait for a few cars to pass before walking up another block.
“Honey, I know nothin’,” she says, taking a sip of her sweet tea. We reach our office door, and I pull it open and welcome the cool air that hits us as Aaliyah enters, and I step inside after her. “They have been super quiet about this one. Makes me wonder what all the fuss is about?”
“Me too, I wonder what they are hiding?” I ask once we have reached my private office. Setting my drink and purse down on my desk, I shake my mouse, and my computer comes to life. Leaning forward, I check a few emails that have come in since we were out at lunch.
“Mhm, your guess is as good as mine,” she says, slumping down in one of the chairs across from my desk.
A few knocks sound against my open office door. James, the office manager, peeks his head into my office. Holding a massive stack of documents, he frowns, “You’re late, Gwen.”
I glance at Aaliyah, who rolls her eyes and mimics James’ expression. Smiling, I stand up straight and cross my arms over my chest as I stare back at the flustered man in front of me.
“James, it’s 1:02. I don’t think I would count two minutes as late. Besides, lighten up. It’s not like the clients are here already.”
I lean forward again to continue reading the email I was glancing at when James clears his throat. Glancing up, I see a worried look fill his eyes.
“The clients are here already, huh?” I ask.
He shakes his head yes and stands straighter, hugging the files tightly to his chest. A slight air of nervousness comes over me as I realize I have no clue what I’m about to walk into.
It’s obviously big enough that the whole company has kept it under wraps until now.
I like to be prepared, and I usually would’ve pressed to know more.
Still, with the move and my late-night escapades in Lexington, Kentucky, my mind has unfortunately been preoccupied.
Aaliyah rises. I smooth out my blouse, run my hands down my tight skirt, pulling it into place, and attempt to calm my nerves.
“Okay, don’t panic, it’s fine,” I say, grabbing a few papers on my desk before making my way to the door.
Aaliyah is hot on my heels, and James is right behind her as I hurriedly walk down the hallway toward the conference room.
“Gwen,” James starts. “I think you should know…”
“Now is not the time, James,” I hiss under my breath as we reach the conference room door.
Pushing open the glass, I usher them through as two male voices float to me from inside the room. James gives me a nervous look as he passes by.
“Smile,” I whisper, and he rolls his eyes. Taking a deep breath, I stand back, plaster a smile on my face, and enter the room last.
One gentleman is on his phone in the far corner of the room with his back to us. The other gives me a large smile as we enter. His temples are slightly graying, and he has a comforting look about him. He approaches confidently, and I shake his hand as the other gentleman ends his phone call.
“Lucien Maxwell,” he says. “Nice to meet you.”
“Gwen Coppola,” I say, gripping his hand firmly. “The pleasure is mine. Sorry, we were a little late.”
Aaliyah and James have taken their seats, but I wait before taking mine in order to greet the other gentleman, who has turned and is approaching us. I cock my head to the side and try to place where I know the guy from. He looks oddly familiar, yet I can’t figure out why.
“Coppola?” Lucien asks. “Like the winemaker?”
I smile as the younger gentleman walks with assured purpose toward us. He smiles at me briefly before his eyes roam hungrily over my body. The sizzle between us is undeniable. Faltering slightly, I turn back to the older gentleman and say, “Yes, but we’re of no relation.”
Extending my hand to the younger man, he gives me a drop-dead gorgeous smirk as he takes it and pulls me a step closer. If handshakes could be seductive, his just took my breath away. With his fingers wrapped around my palm, I fight the urge to step further into him like my body suddenly craves.
“Gwen?” he asks, the mere mention of my name on his lips sends a jolt of pleasure through my core.
“Nice to meet you. I’m Eric Maxwell.”
Then it hits me. Eric Maxwell. Two-time MVP for the Atlanta Braves.
Eric Maxwell who was on the cover of Sports Illustrated last fall.
The man every red-blooded woman drooled over.
GQ’s most eligible bachelor. A pitcher I’d gladly round every base for and make sure to score at home with many, many times until I am sated and satisfied.
My cheeks flush. I look down momentarily to see our hands still laced together.
When I glance back up, his eyes claim mine.
He holds me still, breathless, unable to speak.
His grin cocks up one side of his flawless face, and that’s all it takes to send me back down to earth and slap me back to reality.
I’ve fallen for the cocky ones before and it never worked out.
I release his hand, but he pries his fingers off mine slowly. “Nice to meet you, Mr. Maxwell.”
“Eric, please. I insist.”
I smile and nod my head. “Well, if you insist,” I tease.
He grins and crosses his arms over his chest.
“Should we get started?” I ask, gesturing towards the table.
I sit quickly and wait for the two men to join us.
Aaliyah shoots me a curious look, while James sits up straight, and attempts to look more professional and put together than he really is.
Eric’s father, I assume, sits conservatively to my right — while Eric sits relaxed with one leg propped up on his knee to my left.
He straightens his tie, and tilts his head to the side. His gaze roams up my legs.
Swiveling them under the conference room table, I clear my throat and busy myself with straightening the stack of papers I walked in with.
Eric chuckles, knowing I purposely moved to hide from his stare.
I’m no prude, but if he wants to admire the view, he will have to work a lot harder than getting it for free.
Not that I’m looking to get involved with anyone at the moment, especially not a client. The night I spent with Rex is still fresh on my mind, and I’ve failed to shake how it made me feel.
Alive. Connected. Home.
Shaking my head, I try to focus on the task before me. On who I am told is the largest client our firm has ever landed.
“Our company gave us limited information to go off of before this meeting,” I begin. “Now, meeting both of you, I understand why the information was kept so secret. Tell me, Eric, what is your background in the nightlife scene?”
He grins and licks his lips. Something about how his tongue circles his mouth, how his teeth lightly bite into his bottom lip forces a shiver to rush down my spine. Leaning closer, he shrugs innocently.
“Not much, but I’m a quick learner and love trying new things. Besides, I'm sure I will make out just fine with a woman like you in charge.”
His father clears his throat across the table.
Nice one, Casanova, but I don’t think so.
Sighing, I carry on as if his comment didn’t just rock everyone in the room.
“Lucky for you, Eric, we specialize in your particular type of marketing.”
“I bet you do,” he taunts.
Leveling him with a serious look, I say, “Over the next few weeks, we will work closely together to make sure that your vision is coming along and that we are representing you correctly to not just the local atmosphere in New Orleans, but the neighboring towns and communities so that when you open your doors, the club is sure to be an instant success.”
“Hopefully,” Lucien says.
I glance his way and try not to sound too condescending. “We have a proven track record in successful marketing for businesses like this one. I assure you, you are in good hands. You and your son have nothing to fear.”
“I’m not interested in the nightlife,” Lucien smiles. “But it is his money. He just wanted me along for business advice. Seeing his claim to fame comes from a different ballpark altogether. No pun intended.”
Aaliyah giggles under her breath.
“I understand. I have prepared some papers for you to look over and sign. You can take them with you. Seeing it is Friday, I would need them back by noon on Monday to get the ball rolling.”
Pushing the papers towards Eric, he picks them up and holds my gaze momentarily before glancing over them.
“Everything is there,” I assert. “If you have any questions, you know where to call. I also included my cell number, just in case it is after hours.”
Eric’s smile widens. His brows raise in amusement, and I silently curse myself for having done so. If I had only known what I know now, I never would have written that number down. One womanizer is enough for me. I expensed all the time and effort I could afford on notorious playboys ten years ago.
Standing from the table, everyone else in the room follows suit, except Eric. Making our way towards the door, Aaliyah and James shake hands with Lucien as I bring up the rear. Once I reach the exit, Lucien extends his hand to me, and I take it firmly.
“I trust you know what you are doing. Otherwise, they would not have put you in charge of such a big assignment,” Lucien says.
I smile at him. “Like I said Mr. Maxwell, you have nothing to fear.”
“I’m counting on it,” he grins as he exits the room.
I feel Eric’s stare on my ass as we’re suddenly left alone in the room. As tempting as the attention is, I won’t get involved with a client. I can’t. Not with a job this big and the promise of what I might land after it.
Turning around, I meet Eric’s stare. He scrubs one of his hands across the stubble on his chin, bites his lips, and lets his gaze roam dangerously around my curves.
Rising from his seat, he stalks towards me, stopping only when he has come so close, I can smell his cologne and feel the heat of his body.
“Where did you learn how to do that?” he whispers.
“Do what?”
“Seduce a man with just one look in your breathtaking eyes.”
Smiling, I try not to act phased by his comment. “Where did you learn all the smooth lines, Romeo? Didn’t think they taught you that shit running bases at the ballpark.”
His head falls back, and he howls out a laugh. “Let me warn you, Gwen. I like a woman who isn’t afraid to speak her mind.”
“I’ve yet to meet a business partner who intimidates me,” I grin. “You’ll have to try harder than just a few pickup lines to get me off my game.”
Eric leans against the door frame. “Is that so? Well, if I don’t succeed. Maybe some other guy will. I guess it’s a good thing I am not alone in this business deal.”
He pushes off the wall and starts to walk out of the conference room. I follow him down the hallway, thankful that this encounter is coming to a close so I can get back to what I was working on before lunch.
“Oh, by the way, we are going to need another set of papers to sign,” he tosses over his shoulders, and my brow furrows.
“Why?” I ask as we come into the front reception area. “There should be enough signature spots for you and your father on those forms.”
“That is not what I’m worried about,” Eric says. “It is for the other partners.”
“Wait, what other…” I ask, confused.
But I am cut off as the front door to the office slams open. I turn and look up just as Eric goes to speak.
“My business partner. An old college buddy of mine. He has way more experience with this type of project than I do. In fact, he already has a club in Northern California, and one in Nashville.”
My eyes widen as I face a man I last saw naked, sprawled out across a hotel bed in Kentucky. A man who knows how to work my body better than anyone ever could. A man who stole my heart without ever asking for it a long time ago. A man I can’t seem to escape no matter how damn hard I try.
Rex Roberts.